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POCAHONTAS. 



A LEGEND. 










0>A°S FA 



POCAHONTAS. 



& Eeflentr. 



WITH HISTORICAL AND TRADITIONARY NOTES. 



BY MRS. M. M. WEBSTER. 



• 




PHILADELPHIA : 

HERMAN HOOKER. 

1840. 






Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1840, by 
Mrs. M. M. Webster, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for 
the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



C. Sherman 8c Co Printers, 
19 St. James jiraet 



PREFACE. 



Few subjects belong more peculiarly to the 
province of Poetry than the events connected 
with the Aborigines of our country. They were 
altogether a poetic race. Their deeds of heroic 
daring, their uncomplaining endurance of physical 
suffering, affecting instances of patriotic devotion, 
scenes of domestic loveliness, and personal, un- 
broken friendships, — these, besides the varied and 
romantic scenery of their boundless domains, are 
fitting themes for the investments of the poet's 
fancy, no less than for the records of the faithful 
historian. 

Among the individuals of this once innumerable 
and singular people, no one claims a deeper interest 
than the heroine of the following Legend. Most 
affecting are the incidents in her life which stand 
in bold relief on the graphic page. But other 



v i PREFACE. 

incidents of a no less deep and glowing interest 
are to be found among the torn annals of tradition. 
Of these enough have come down to us to excite 
our admiration and love for the frail blossom, 
which, like much of superior excellence, perished 
ere it reached its noontide developement. 

These traditionary incidents, touching but lightly- 
on the recorded events, it has been the author's 
endeavour to weave into wild and simple measures, 
divested of much of the extraneous ornament which 
fashion sometimes imposes. Our heroine is pre- 
sented to the reader in every stage of her being, 
from infancy's dawn to maturer years, through 
scenes as varied and as thrilling as the wildest 
fancy might sketch. A prodigy of goodness, she 
is found dispensing blessings around her, even at 
the hazard of parental displeasure ; and, at a 
tender age, offering the tribute of sympathy where 
effort would be unavailing. 

To the author, who loves the lay of simple 
nature, it is pleasant to snatch a fast-fading relic 
of other days from the mysteries which envelope 
that interesting race of beings, the free sons of the 



PREFACE. v Ji 

forest, who ranged at will its boundless shades, 
undisturbed by the restraints of civilization and 
unsubdued by the yoke of the oppressor. Though 
the writer's relationship — the seventh remove in 
lineal descent — to this 

Noblesse of nature and sweet Mercy's child, 

,may to her invest the heroine with richer attrac- 
tiveness than others may recognise; yet she in- 
dulges the hope that to her fair countrywomen, 
especially, this her essay " to raise a shrine to 
Pocahontas' shade," may not be ungratifying. 
And should this poetic mingling of unvarnished 
truth with time-worn legends, interspersed as they 
are with a few speculative opinions and occa- 
sional snatches of the purely ideal, find favour with 
the public ; other and similar treasures remain in 
the wide field whence these have been taken, not 
unworthy the writer's care or the reader's perusal. 

M. M. W. 

Richmond, Va., June 30, 1840. 



CONTENTS. 



Introduction 13 

BOOK I. 

I. The Wife 16 

II. The Mother 29 

III. Matoa's lament at her Mother's Grave ... 40 

IV. Matoa 42 

BOOK II. 

I. A Family Sketch 48 

II. Nantaquas 58 

BOOK III. 

I. The Exile 64 

II. The Return 88 

III. The Visit and Prophecy . 96 



CONTENTS. 



BOOK IV. 



I. The Captivity 112 

II. The Landing 125 

III. Pocahontas' Baptism 134 

BOOK V. 

I. The Marriage and Departure of Pocahontas 138 

II. An Unlooked-for Adventure 142 

III. The Embarcation and Voyage 147 

IV. The Conclusion 156 

Notes . 165 



POCAHONTAS. 



POCAHONTAS. 



INTRODUCTION. 

Bright is the sun on fair Virginia's shore, 
As when his fiery car first rode on high ; 

The savage yells disturb its vales no more, 

Nor dreadful war-whoops reach the distant sky. 

Soft too the zephyr blows, unmindful still 

Of chance or change, wrought by Time's iron hand ; 
And gently, as it woos the silent rill, 

The playful moonbeams silver sea and land. 

The billowy waves kiss with resistless sway 

The Occidental sands and cliffy shore ; 
Then bounding backward, as in other day, 

Bare their rude battlements the same as yore. 

All on the earth proclaim their Maker wise ! 
And sing from morn till eve that Good divine 
2 



14 POCAHONTAS. 

Who out of chaos bade their beings rise ; 
Some to fulfil below inferior destinies, 

While with his plastic hand he gave the higher orbs 
to shine : 

Yet all are useful ; one stupendous whole ; — 
Whether the insect's wing or ceaseless soul ! 

All rest on Him, and in His Spirit live, 
From the equator on to either pole. 
What but Eternal Mind such beings might control, 

Or life or hope or joy or dearer ransom give. 

But where is she, the beauteous and the good, 
The youthful empress of the forests' wild, 

The Huntress bold, the Dryad of the wood, 
Noblesse of nature, and sweet Mercy's child ? 

And" shall her virtues be so soon forgot ? 

Shall pages glow with mock-heroic fire, 
While not a muse shall sing her highborn lot, 

Or wake to deeds like hers the patriot's lyre 1 

Could not some master-touch have tuned the shell, 
A Scott, a Hemans, or a Campbell, aid 

Matoa's gentle sympathies to tell, 

Or raise a shrine to Pocahontas' shade ? 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

Or, may not trans-atlantic bards incline 

To pluck a laurel for so bright a brow ; 
Some sister vot'ry of the tuneful Nine, 

To grace and beauty of past ages bow ? 

Should none more gifted weave the hallowed verse, 
Mine be the task, however rude the lay, 

Her simple joys and sorrows to rehearse, 
And dedicate a shrine befitting this our day. 

Though oft historic lore those stories tell 
In ancient phrases or in uncouth rhyme ; 

Yet does the chord upon her memory dwell, 

Or give her generous deeds to grace a future time ? 

Ah no ! They tell of her, as one whose day, 
Scarce worth a record, passed in ease away ; 
Mingling the sigh full oft with pleasure's reign, 
And kindly feeling — ne'er indulged in vain ; 
Yet, list they not the legendary line 
Preserved by oral truth and memory divine. 



16 POCAHONTAS. 



BOOK I. 

I. 
THE WIFE. 1 

She dwelt amid the wild, 
Nor does tradition say 

How nature's ardent child 
Beguiled the weary day. 

Roamed she the forest track 
With him, her monarch lord, 2 

Or brought the quarry back 
To grace his regal board ; 

Or sought amid the caves 
Where Ocean held his sway, 

Bright coral of the waves, 
In treasured heaps that lay? 3 

Mid sadness and alone, 

Mayhap, her hours went by; 

No loved one of her own, 
No ear to list her sigh. 



THE WIFE. 17 

For the proud forest king 

With many a Brave would go 
Wild hunting notes to ring, 

Or ambush for the foe. 

May wealth or power atone 

For man's unkindness e'er, 
Or gem of diamond stone 

Repay the starting tear ? 

Ah no ! the heart's full tide, 

The bosom's secret thrill, 
Demand some boon beside 

Man's wild, capricious will. 

To-day his spirits flow 

With love's divinest light, 
To-morrow, cease to glow, 

As quenched in Polar night : 

Though adamantine rest 

Fond woman e'er should find, 
Where threatened ills shall not molest 

Her ever trusting mind. 

2* 



18 POCAHOJMTAS. 

Not like the Indian wife 

Who mid the forest strayed, 

Recalling scenes of happier life, 

That still on memory's leaf delayed. 

Youth's misty sunlight oft appears 
To gild the gloom of later years 

With glory not its own; 
And memory, poised on steady wing, 
Brings back the halcyon days of spring 

To cheerless age alone. 

Content was she to brook 
The varied turns of fate, 

While fond affection's look 
Could joyous hopes create* 

But when of these bereft, 

What haven of repose, 
What anchor then was left, 

What solace for her woes ? 

Though oft, mid Ila's 4 dreams, 
Youth's pristine joys delayed, 

While fancy's fairy beams 
A brighter tissue made. 



THE WIFE. 19 

Nor was young Love exiled 

One moment from his throne ; 
Nor dwelt amid the wild 

A creature more his own. 

But when for days, in solitude, 

Her luckless lot was cast, 
Blame ye the tone, — the influence rude, 

That sorrowed o'er the past ? 

When the neglected one 

Was cheered by naught around ; 

On memory's leaf alone 
Grief's antidote was found. 

Her own loved tribe, in wealth and power, 
Stretched from fair Susquehanna's tide; 5 

Claiming a more than princely dower 
Mid northern regions, far and wide. 

And she had bent her weary feet 

From royal wigwams of her sire, 
To southern forests' deep retreat, 

Where blazed a friendly Sachem's fire. 



20 POCAHONTAS. 

Then Ila's days were blest with love 
Pure as in Eden's hallowed grove ; 

Till, vows forgot and passion gone, 
She sought the forest depths alone. 

Wingina's monarch, cold and shy, 6 
Gazed on her with a careless eye ; 
Or, with his Braves of high degree, 
Mingled in savage revelry. 

Mayhap for moons his wayward will 
Would scorn the gentle Ila still ; 
And far from tristful tree or bower, 
Neglect his lovely forest flower. 

Excuses cold oft met her ear, 

Or hints she might not love to hear ; 

" Of hunting-grounds far, far away, 

" Where scathless grazed the herds by day . 

" Nor arrow winged by mortal hand 
" Had brought dismay among the band. 
" And yet what fame a Chief might gain ! 
" What victories won, with numbers slain !" 



THE WIFE. 21 



And then alone would Ila mourn, 
And count the hours till his return. 
For when did woman's love expire 
If fondly fanned the holy fire? 



With well-taught ear she marked each sound, 
And chided oft the rushing blast ; 

Or deemed her eagle eye had found 
The treasure lost. He comes at last ! 

Then, like an agile fawn, she speeds 
O'er tangled brake, o'er prostrate reeds ; 
The forest covert now no more 
Her fav'rite haunt, she seeks the shore 
Where the bold stream divides ; 8 
And, seated near the sedgy tides, 
Watches the bark, mid ripples bright, 
Like well-sprung arrow, as it glides 
'Neath the sun's dazzling light. 

But joy was quenched in that dark eye 
With its fringed curtain-lids, that fell 

Tinged with the surmeh's glossy dye ; 9 
A tale of wounded love they tell. 



22 POCAHONTAS. 

For still the haughty monarch bore him on 
In rude and unchecked merriment the while, 10 

Nor deigned a glance of sympathy to one 

To whom he whilom gave his brightest smile, — 

The rainbow of his love a few brief moons agone. 

Is there a pang compared with this on earth, 
And not inflicted by supernal power, 

To see the cherished buds of mortal birth 
Neglected lie, — the bosom's blighted flower ? 

Sometimes will tears relief impart 
To the full chambers of the heart ; 
As dews refresh the parching fields, 
When the pent cloud no treasure yields. 

The rose's chalice filled at night 
Wakes in her eye a glow more bright ; 
And lily cups, though drooping seen 
Their snow, reposed on leaves of green, 
Let Phoebus show a smiling face, 
Restored is all their pristine grace. 

Sad Ila would in secret mourn 
That love so pure found no return ; 



THE WIFE. 23 

And sigh to think that day by day 
Another link was torn away. 

But tears of injured feeling o'er, 
The brow once sad was sad no more; 
Pride, dignity and sorrow threw 
Their mingled influence like the dew. 

And something in her inmost soul 
Bade her each cherished hope control, 
Or fix her love on some sweet flower 
Fairest in woodland or in bower ; 

Till time or fate or chance should prove 
The monarch worthy of her love ; 
And bring the rover back again, 
A willing captive to her chain. 

O blame her not, the wilding shoot 
Of Nature's own uncultured fruit. 
No moral code to her was taught, 
Nor holy gospel-precept brought 
To win from earth, and fix above, 
A Being worthy heavenly love. 



24 POCAHONTAS. 

There are who, mingling with the common kind, 
Feel no communion high their bosom thrill ; 

Who own all influence but that of mind — 
A sacred essence that a world should fill. 

Others there are who only mind obey ; 

Their dearest solace, and their highest pride ; 
Trusting no helm on life's tempestuous sea, 

Nor asking other stars their devious way to guide. 

Unknown, alas ! unvalued such as these, 
And given to musings seldom understood 

Untutored in the varied arts that please, 
Yet not unmindful of another's good. 

Thus Ila lived neglected and unloved 

Through the first era of her wedded youth ; 

Till Time, that talisman of life, should prove 
Her soul replete with wisdom, worth and truth. 

Far o'er the wilderness' unbeaten track 
Her aged sire enjoyed a peaceful reign ; 

Nor could the royal consort e'er look back 
With hope's bright visions to her home again. 



THE WIFE. 25 

Something was whispered that another land 
The far ancestral tree had whilom known ; 

And Runic pride was touched, that Ila's hand 
Should plighted be to Sachem not their own. 

Full many sought the lovely prize to gain 
By all the arts that ancient lore has told ; 

But ah ! like later lovers, tried in vain, 

And, as may be believed, for want of gold : 

But the proud monarch of Virginia's soil, 

Girt with his warrior bands, had come to woo, 

Threat'ning the Sire with tribute, fight and spoil, 
Should he refuse the meed to valour due. 

Woman's well guarded heart may gold despise, 
May scorn the timid, and the artful shun ; 

But give, ah ! give fore'er the brave and wise : 
This counsels well, by that respect is won. 

Honour and virtue are the boons we claim ; 

Nought gives a zest to life when they are fled ; 
Nought else can fan aright the holy flame ; 

And should they perish, every hope is dead. 
3 



26 POCAHONTAS. 

But to my tale. The gentle Ila, moved 
By prowess to her tribe so little known, 

The Sachem of the southern forests loved, 
Who left her home to share his rural throne. 

Tradition said, that, many a moon bygone, 
So long, that e'en tradition's self runs wild, 1 ! 

Some stranger chief a Sachem's land had won, 
And gave the dowry to his sunny child. 

The North-men's visit to a foreign clime 
The old historic pages still unfold : 

No matter what the era, date or time ; 

Conquest their object, and desire for gold. 

Proofs of their skill in semi-barbarous art, 
Their love for roaming, and regard for gain, 

Though by the lapse of ages lost in part, 
Enough of such wild trophies still remain. 

In " Danish Vine-land" ancient relics rise, 
By Odin's worshippers once planted there, 

Far from the influence of Polar skies, 
And from their youth's associations far. 



THE WIFE. 27 

Not in all minds alike those feelings breathe 

Which cling to homestead joys, a smiling throng ; 

For though in careless childhood all may wreathe 
Their votive off'rings, mingling flowers and song ; 

Some, light of heart, may scorn in later years 
Those dear memorials of a calmer time ; 

While others water them with life's last tears, 
And bear their faded charms from clime to clime. 

Sufficient for my legend's ancient fame 

Are the wild theories by Sibyls told ; 
And given to prove that Ila's Runic name 

Claimed birth and being from the Norse-men bold. 

And, as I weave these tales in mystic verse, 

To save some shreds from Time's relentless hand ; 

WHhat if the muse from other stores rehearse 

Tradition's wilding strains to please her native land. 

How warm the greetings of this sunny shore 

To her the daughter of a northern race, 
Has been revealed. Nor can the pen do more, 

'Mid such disorder, plainer forms to trace. 



28 POCAHONTAS. 

Often in this, our polished day and clime, 
The same too dubious welcome has obtained ; 

Then blame not the uncouth of elder time 

That one above their sphere no deeper rev'rence 
gained. 

But changes come : the beautiful, the gay 
May lose the influence of their sunny hour ; 

While time and circumstance may ope the way 

For the unloved of years to claim the meed of power. 



THE MOTHER. 29 



II. 



THE MOTHER. 



Again the Chieftain comes in regal power ; 

The royal wigwams ring with loud acclaim ; 
And Ila, still beloved, he seeks thy bower : 

With savage pride he hails a Father's name. 

Loud echoes through the forest mazes ring, 
And rising bonfires pale the waning moon : 12 

The joyous nymphs responsive ditties sing, 

For the Great Spirit sends the wished-for boon. 

And he, the monarch of the woods and streams, 
Feels a new life his bounding pulses thrill ; 

Nor fears that time or change may mar such dreams 
Of raptured hope as now his senses fill. 

Throughout his realms the calumet of peace 
To the swift herald's willing hand is given, 

The welcome tale to tell, of joy's increase, 
And the rich blessings of indulgent Heaven. 



30 POCAHONTAS. 

* 

No more shall Ila rove o'er wood and dell ; 

But sits 'neath symbols rude of majesty, 
Throned by her monarch lord, beloved so well, 

While tears of joy oft sparkle in her eye. 

Yet, busy memory, (as it ever will 

In joy or grief,) looked back to pleasures o'er, 
Urging sometimes a sigh ; for Ila still 

Loved the dark woodlands of her natal shore. 

And now, a mother, fondly would she prove 
To all she left, this consecrating tie, 

Mingling each holy stamp of earthly love 
That fills the gen'rous soul with ecstasy : 

But policy forbade. The tender care 

Of Prince and people o'er the nursling thrown, 

Bade her, in rude and untaught grandeur, there 
To cradle innocence, to fear unknown. 

The Royal Sachem of the wood and lea 

Watched the young Eaglet with paternal pride ; 

Deeming a few revolving years should see 
A mimic huntress grace his regal side. 



THE MOTHER. 31 

Nor was the wife of youth's neglected vow 
Abandoned to the scorn of vulgar eyes ; 

But gained the reverence due to virtue now, 
Which savage bosoms may be taught to prize. 

Nor could the Queen of empire's boundless sway, 

Like the poor tenant of an humble cot, 
Own all of nature's luxuries, but pay 

The tribute due to her exalted lot. 

Too far removed to interchange a vow, 
Her distant kindred knew not Ila's joy ; 

Yet other cares the grateful spirit bow, 
That fill the soul with bliss without alloy. 

The gentle nurture of maternal love, 

That, buoyed with hope, can other joys forego ; 

The zeal that's kindled at the fount above 
Gives promise of unfading light below. 

But ah ! she knew not of the gem within, 

Nor dreamed of training spirits meet for heaven : 

To keep her charge inviolate from sin 

Was not to the meek Indian mother given. 



32 POCAHONTAS. 

What her weak efforts could effect, she did, 
As later records of our land may prove ; 

From vulgar vice the tender germ she hid, 
And gave the soul to universal love. 

And, when the babe, in early being, taught 
By nature's instinct, true as reason's rule, 

The mother's gentle smile that infant caught, 
And learned of mercy in an humble school. 

With what delight her ear received the strain 
Of the gay warblers in her native grove, 

Which, uttered oft in mimic song, again 

Pleased with such thrillings wild, maternal love. 

Well too did virtue's handmaids guard her way, 
Pouring rich blessings o'er her ev'ry hour ; 

And still the doting mother, day by day, 

Drew wisdom's lessons from each herb and flower. 

For, as she wandered by the silver wave, 
Leading with care her solace and her pride, 

Instructive teachings to the child she gave 
For aye in the Great Spirit to confide. 



THE MOTHER. 33 

But Time, which brings the bud to shrub and tree, 
And eke destroys the bounties of his hand, 

Saw the young maiden, tripping wild and free, 
A fairy huntress at her Sire's command. 

With him she sought the fleet but timid hare, 
Yet joyed not in the chase her gentle soul ; 

For mercy bade the erring shaft to spare, 
While oft the starting tear defied control. 

Forever in its lair the deer would bide 

If Ila's gentle child its fate could stay ; 
And the mute shell-fish, screened beneath the tide, 

Through her benevolence, unharmed would lay. 

Her form was beautiful ; a fitting shrine 

For sympathies so soft to dwell within ; 
Seeming to claim an essence half divine, 

Free from the stain of all but inborn sin. 

For ne'er had gospel -precept touched her ear 

With pleadings sweet, nor yet with threatened ire ,* 

Such sounds as later eras teach and hear 
Of wisdom lighted at the altar's fire. 



34 POCAHONTAS. 

Hers was the piety which Nature gave, 

Drawn from the matin lark, or vesper song ; 

Her book, the firmament ; her school, the wave 
Rolling in harmony sublime along. 

Happy the land where virtue sets its seal, 

And the bright impress points to worlds above ! 

Religion's page immortal truths reveal, 

And seeks thy hallowed shrine, Almighty Love. 

But mercy, meekness and a guileless heart, 
These sister graces, claimed Matoa's care ; 

And many a sunshine gleam did they impart 
Of balmiest incense ; for she knew not prayer, 

That seal of Faith ; — that triumph over Earth, 
That last, best gift of God, to dying man ; — 

More filled with joy than high Archangel's birth; — 
Eternal in its scope, — unerring in its plan ! 

Thus lived the Indian maid, beloved, caressed, — 
A father's hope, — a mother's soul of joy ; 

To her each gave a blessing, and was blest 

With earth's delights, scarce mingled with alloy. 



THE MOTHER. 35 

To royal honours, stretching far and wide 

From sea-girt shores, to where the mountains blue 

Stand sentinel and other tribes divide, 
The youthful Princess gained all homage due. 

These bright examples and instructions mild 
Might tame the passions of the savage crew ; 

O'er their fierce natures, uncontrolled and wild, 
Throw a restraining influence, sweet and new, 

Had Heaven but spared the source from whence should 
spring 
The rudiments of sure and lasting peace, 
Till future ages should perfection bring 

And crown the western world with harmony's 
increase. 

But sorrow comes to all ; the keenest smart 

'Twas thine, sweet maid, in life's young dawn to prove. 

The watchful mother, — idol of her heart, — 

Her childhood's guide, — her bosom's trusted love 

Was snatched from earth to Death's relentless arms 
E'er yet full womanhood Matoa knew ! 13 

Not all her loveliness, — her mental charms, — 
Could stay the shaft the dreadful tyrant threw ! 



36 POCAHONTAS. 

No longer 'neath the forest's shady screen 

The young girl bounds as in her happier hours ; 

Nor mingles with delight in that glad scene 

Where erst at eve she gathered dew-bent flowers ; 

But lonely musings filled her darkened mind, 
As, with a measured step, solemn and slow, 

She moved along ; nor could Matoa find 
Aught of life's things to mitigate her woe. 

No kindred of her mother's tribe were near 
To mingle sympathies, so sweet to all ; 

No voice, with accents bland, to stay the tear, 
Or teach its soothing crystals when to fall. 

Darkened the glory of his sunny life, 

Bereft of bliss, (in gayer youth unknown,) 

That lured his footsteps oft from savage strife ; 
How were her father's high resolves o'erthrown ! 

And left to wander on, without that love 
So late his guiding star to hope and rest ; 

Soon did his nature's evil passions move, 

And fill with maddening power his changeful breast. 



THE MOTHER. 37 

And he, the recreant one, could still forego, 
With small rebuke of soul, those slighted ties 

That bound as short a space, in recent woe 

Dissolved, like snow beneath the summer skies. 

And where his wayward will most strongly bent, 
Thither the willing spirit urged his course, 

Neglectful of the gentle maid who, bent 
By dire affliction, felt alone its force. 

For sad Matoa watched beside the stream, 

As rolled its seaward course with wave serene ; 

The clear, full mirror, sparkling in the beam 
That from creation's dawn the same had been. 

Blest stream ! or James or Powhatan, — whate'er 
For Christian king or Pagan Sagamore, 

Thy gurgling waters soothed mine infant ear, 
As near thee rose my father's hall of yore. 

And memory oft recurs with dear delight 

To times, when, on thy flowery banks I've played, 

Watching with pride of skill each eddy bright, 

By practised hand with smooth round pebbles made. 
4 



38 POCAHONTAS. 

O ! can the young heart's joys be e'er forgot, 

(Though age may change for aye each outward grace,) 

Where grew the thorn tree by my nurse's cot, 
And how the wild brier decked my natal place ? 

The light green foliage of the willow tree 

That waved its slender boughs to every wind ; 

The cypress with its gloom, how dear to me ! 
Whose graceful tendrils oft I loved to bind, 

Mingled with field flowers, to adorn the brow 

Of my sweet sister, in our frolic play ; 
Ah ! true have its dark emblems told, for now 

She, with all else I loved, has passed away ! 

But past are those brief years of cherished bliss, 
Mingled in one great vortex, with the hour 

When young Matoa moved mid scenes like this, 
Herself a bruised and wounded forest flower ! 

Rising with energies sublime and high, 

From savage state to reason's brightest plan ; 

For sympathy divine illumed her eye, — 
The ennobling gift of heaven to selfish man 



THE MOTHER. 39 

With pensive mien and melancholy tone, 
Matoa mingled with the artless throng, 

When prompted by their calls ; but oft alone 
Indulged in silent grief, or unobtrusive song. 

What if the poet breathe a simple strain 
For her, the gifted but the untaught child ? 

Can the ideal to the muse seem vain 

That thus she uttered nature's wood-notes wild ? 

May not imagination's subtile powers 

Lend to the Indian girl a half-strung lyre ? 14 

Robbed of the hope that strewed her path with 
flowers, 
O let rude poesy her soul inspire. 

And listen to the rustic lay she sung, 

In voice untutored, but in cadence sweet, 

While many an uncouth form around her hung, 
Or scattered blossoms wild beneath her feet ; 

Or o'er the mound that, e'en in savage time, 

Showed the still sleeper on the earth's dark breast ; 

Though all unblest with promises divine 
That points the spirit to a world of rest ! 



40 POCAHONTAS. 



III. 

matoa's lament at her mother's grave. 

" Fly to the forest glade ; 
" O ! with me seek its shade, 

" Mother still dear. 
" See where the sere leaves rest 
" Softly on earth's still breast, 
" While pangs of woe molest, — 

" And urge the tear. 

" Of her who was thv child, 
" Who 'mid the tempest wild, 

" Would list thy lays, 
" Here shall thy image dwell ; 
" Nought break the sacred spell 

" Of happier days ! 

" Joy beamed in thy dark eye 

" To me alone. 
" O then was rapture nigh, — 

" But thou art gone ! 



MATOA'S LAMENT. 41 

" Bring, bring me flowers to spread 

" On this low, peaceful bed ; 
" Then tears of woe I'll shed, 

" Cheerless, alone ! 

" And when declining day 
" Calls to our social play, 

" Here will I dwell. 
" Nor shall a footstep come 
" Near this, thy hallowed home, 

" O mother ! loved too well. 

" Dew-cups and honey -flowers, 
" Clear streams and shady bowers, 

" Ever adieu ! 
" Nature now gives the call ; 
" Freely I leave you all 

" This grave to strew 
" With buds that ne'er shall blow, 
" Tears that for ever flow ; 
" Heart's withered joys, that know 

" Nought of hope's ray, 
" Till the Great Spirit come 
" And waft me to my home 

" Far o'er the hills away !" 

4* 



42 POCAHONTAS. 



IV. 



MATOA. 



'Twas autumn, — and the leaves that fell 
All sered and withered by her side, 

Might to her heart a lesson tell 
Of man's short hour of pride ! 

" True types are we of joys of earth ; 

" And to the moralist we say, 
" The tender hopes of mortal birth, 

" Like us, must perish and decay. 

" Then mingle with the rose's bloom 

" Flowers from that plant that ne'er can fade ; 

" Life's tree, — which lives beyond the tomb ; 
" By Hands Eternal, changeless made ! 

" The brow so wreathed may Death defy ; 

" For it his quiver holds no dart, 
" When like a scroll the shrinking sky 

" And sun and moon and stars depart !" 



MATOA. 43 

Stern winter came : his iron hand 

Bade e'en sweet nature's self look drear ; 

The streams were tied with icy band, 
And joyless was the waning year. 

Strange, that his empire e'er should jar 

On stricken hearts that know no rest, 
Whose hopes are crushed, or gleam afar 

Like moonlight on the lake's cold breast. 

With me, when sorrow's cloudy form 
Spreads murky darkness o'er my brow, 

I love to list the wintry storm, 

And hear its wail from every bough. 

For life's gay summer-light, to grief, 

When new misfortunes o'er us lower, 
Is like the dew from Upas leaf 

Distilled upon a sleeping flower : 

Unknown save by the withering spell 

That closes up its petals fair, 
Just as its tender blossom's swell, 

Reviving, felt the balmy air : 



44 POCAHONTAS. 

Or like the mirage to the seaman's glance, 
When exile long and danger he has known, 

The pictured vales before his visions dance, 

The cherished scenes of boyhood, once his own. 

But soon his fairy dream hath passed away; 

Lashed by the tempest's wrath the waves arise ; 
Night's sable pall shuts out each living ray, 

And the chafed billows seek the angry skies. 

Thus alternates life's ever changing scene : 

To-day a hurricane, and then a calm ; 
The morn may be all cloudless and serene, 

Or life's last glowing eve may shed a soothing balm. 

Young Spring appeared with mirthful smile, but much 
Of fruit and flower as yet in embryo lay, 

Waiting the zephyr's sigh and sunbeam's touch 
To call their slumbering beauties into day. 

Who hath not felt the joys of coming spring, 

When Nature dons her holiday attire, 
And the sweet choristers their voices bring 

To teach the soul to wonder and admire ? 



MATOA. 45 

In adoration, too, to tune the shell 

In mystic numbers, to that Power above 

Who throws o'er all his works so soft a spell, 
Cradling creation in his boundless love ? 15 

The uncurbed rivulets soon laugh to scorn 

The petty tyrant of the icy chain, 
And hail with chorus loud the rosy morn 

That gives their murmurs to the fields again. 

E'en young Matoa felt the influence mild, 
As something to her heart so long unknown : 

Not that oblivion had o'er Ila's child 
Its dark, impenetrable mantle thrown. 

But Time must banish care in age or youth ; 

Nor can his worst inflictions triumph e'er, 
Since the sweet magic of resistless truth 

And friendship's offerings stay the falling tear. 

Again the wilding rose, in sober wreath, 

(But mingled oft with shrubs that mourn the dead, 

Giving to every gale its perfumed breath,) 
Adorned her bosom or entwined her head. 



46 POCAHONTAS. 

The raven tresses of Matoa's hair 

Lay like a cloud enshrining her soft brow ; 

Those clouds of eve that give a promise fair 
While tinged their purple hue with ruddy glow. 

Her brow was stamped with shade, as was her Sire's, 

(So say historians of romantic eld,) 
Deep marked with sadness, free from savage fires, 

Claiming a sympathy by none withheld. 

But when bereaved of her maternal guide, 
Another seeming dwelt of sorrow there ; 

A pictured anguish, heralding, beside 
Hereditary gloom, the impress of despair. 

Yet oft the gentle mourner would essay 
To cheer the woe another's bosom knew ; 

Give to the eye of joy a softer ray, 

Or hide the tear too faithful memory drew. 

No more a youthful huntress of the wild, 
In mood reluctant at the high command 

Of the proud king ; who seldom sought his child, 
But with his dark-browed chieftains roved the land. 



MATOA. 47 

Or on the Ocean, when the summer breeze 

Fanned with light wing the deep and treacherous wave, 

Launched his broad bark, unused to stormy seas, 
Though all unmindful of a watery grave. 

While yet Matoa's grief was unsuppressed, 

And recent sorrow marked each maiden's brow, 

The royal Sagamore in restless haste 

Sought in another clime to bind another vow. 

Though full of mystery, and unrevealed 
To the sage numbers of his native clan ; 

Yet from the favoured few was nought concealed — 
The gay, the reckless, who approved the plan. 

Few knew his embassy ; or, if they did, 

Fear kept in thrall the knowledge they had gained ; 

Still from Matoa was the secret hid, 

Though absent was the king till many a moon had 
waned. 



48 POCAHONTAS. 



BOOK II. 



A FAMILY SKETCH. 



The royal wigwam of Matoa's sire 

Rings with a sound of more than common glee ; 
Another heir demands the beacon fire, 

And all the pomp of heathen revelry. 

Though life be darkened, sometimes scenes like this 

A sympathetic pleasure may impart, 
Whether we mingle in the rev'ller's bliss, 

Or press our darling sorrow to the heart ; 

Yet it is sweet to see another's smile 

Untouched, untainted by the griefs we know ; 

That innocence and love may still beguile 
The gay inheritor of worlds below. 

While inly pierced, the bleeding bosom pants 
To seek its home and kindred in the skies ; 

And, tired of human ways and human wants, 
Unpressed by Nature's shackles, would arise ! 



A FAMILY SKETCH. 49 

And if Matoa blamed a parent's haste, 

And mourned the sainted one, so soon forgot, 

Her gentle soul forgave the trials past, 
And pleased, beheld another's joyous lot. 

And clinging to the stay which fate had left, 
Heedless if other tendrils clasped it round ; 

Mayhap a solace to the heart bereft 
Could in the sacrifice of soul be found. 

Howe'er that be ; whether the bosom bear 

The wounds inflicted in itself apart, 
Or claims that others take their wonted share, — 

Rests all unkenned within the stricken heart. 

The Indian maid deemed not that one unknown 
Should bear the burden of her own dark woe ; 

Or, that the bride who shared her father's throne 
Should in the noon of life its joys forego. 

The dark Eringa of the Sunny Isle, 

Where orange flowers their fragrant dews distil, 

Gave this bright boy to win the monarch's smile ; 
And noisy mirth the woody valleys fill. 
5 



50 POCAHONTAS. 

A proud Hidalgo, still to fame unknown, 

But rich in jewels and in golden store, 
Was sire to her, who, for a Sachem's throne, 

Left her fond mother to return no more. 

Not like his early choice, his youth's first vow, 

The gentle Ila of a northern shore : 
Dark was Eringa's cheek and sunny brow, 

Which uncurbed passion threw its lightning o'er. 

For, in a clime where solar rays impart 

A light unchanging to the tropic day ; 
So does its influence reach the human heart 

With deep volcanic strifes, and wrath's untiring sway. 

Whether from ancient Augustine the Bride, 

Or further, where the equatorial line 
Gives such preponderance of summer tide, 

Is not my legend's care, nor is it mine. 

Sufficient to detail the threatened ire 

To the meek maiden of Virginia's soil, 
When the changed mood of her apostate sire 

Procured her sleepless nights, and weary days of toil. 



A FAMILY SKETCH. 51 

In mystery clothed, the haughty Powhatan 
Ne'er to his gentle daughter gave a clue 

By which to trace an ever-varying plan, 

Which morn and eve concocted schemings knew. 

And since returned from o'er the buoyant wave, 
With the young Princess of a foreign line, 

No passing sign the once fond parent gave 
Of love which claims an origin divine. 

Moody and wayward, as with care oppressed, 
The sov'reign of the woods imparted ne'er 

The pangs or secrets of his savage breast 
To her whose duty was to list and cheer. 

Once, when the bridal bonfire's ruddy glow 

Shone over woodland stream and forests brown, 

A smile of rapture flitted o'er his brow ; 

But cold as moonbeams resting upon snow, 
And evanescent as an earthly crown. 

He seemed to feel the spirit's blighting hour, 

The presage dark that clustering woes were near ; 

And, bound by Fate's irrevocable power, 

He owned the hidden spell, though all unused to fear. 



52 POCAHONTAS. 

Matoa wooed the darksome riddle still, 
And sought the past and present to disclose 

Of where he wandered, led by wayward will, 
And what the cause that triumphed o'er repose. 

Something she learned mayhap, of doubtful truth, 
'Bout other climes whose natives worship fire : 

This told in secret by a modest youth 
Who loved Matoa, as he feared her sire. 

The story, strange, and almost past belief, 
Gained easy credence at the royal court ; 

For, when did legend long, or fable brief, 
E'er fail for hearers where the young resort ? 

Something they told of antiquarian lore, 

But now forgot or changed by lapse of time, 

Of palaces and halls on foreign shore, 

Built by migrators from dark Afric's clime, 16 

Who sought, as many do, the yellow ore 

For which the clear Pactolus once had fame : 

Not like our Pilgrim Fathers, who of yore 
Braved every danger for the Christian name. 



A FAMILY SKETCH. 53 



The lay or legend bears no living trace 

(Though speculations mark it o'er and o'er) 

Of that dark, restless, energetic race 
Who braved the tempest's wrath and ocean's roar. 



In some frail barge, like Furioso's boat, 

When charmed the Atlantic wave by magic spell, 

Which, oiling water, bade each eddy float 
Their rude canoe, like Triton's fabled shell : 

In far back eld, ere English feet had trod 

This fertile land where freedom's blessings reign, 

Some ships from Carthage, with their household god, 
Ploughed the broad bosom of the Western main. 

So says the legend ; and so said the youth 

Who owned great Powhatan's imperial sway ; 

And, bound by honour's laws and savage truth, 
Reluctant crossed with him the watery way ,* 

And told of those who ne'er had told the tale, 
How near to Cancer's stormy line they rode, 

That still they dwelt in Yucatan's broad vale, 
Or made St. Augustine their blest abode. 



54 POCAHONTAS. 

Some stayed, he said, in the sweet land of flow'rs, 
Where red pomegranates ripen in the sun ; 

While others, tired of rest 'mid orange bowers, 
Toiled through the gulf till Mexico was won. 

And mid Tlascala's ever verdant dells, 
Raised to their Lares many a sacred fane, 

Whose late discovery the record swells 

Of antiquarian wealth, or sacred or profane. 

Enough is told whence dark Eringa came, 
And where the Sachem found so gay a bride ; 

That foreign parentage the maiden claimed ; 
And by inheritance had gold beside. 

Yet, till another fonder tie was wove 
To bind her close to her adopted land, 

Her bosom laboured 'twixt regret and love, 
Rousing her soul o'er reason's soft command. 

But when the Sagamore felt kindling joy, 
And hailed the eaglet of his tribe and name, 

Maternal rapture owned the guiltless boy, 
And in a future age anticipated fame. 



A FAMILY SKETCH. 55 

How hung Matoa o'er that infant heir, 
Yet mingled with her love a dark presage ! 

'Twas not a selfish feeling of despair 

That he should share her royal heritage ; 

For sordid sentiment and love of gain 

Ne'er found response within her gen'rous mind 

Where elevated worth was known to reign, 
Blended with innocence by love refined. 

And as a snow-flake, ere it catch a stain 

Gross and impure from earth's commingled dyes, 

Was that bright being whom our simple strain 
Would deck with all of nature's sympathies. 

Once had the barbed shaft transfixed her heart, 
And given its cherished hopes to dark despair ; 

But now the aching void was filled in part 
With sweet affection for the infant heir. 

Who has not felt a doubt, a pang, a throe, 

When some desired yet hopeless boon was given 1 

Yet well does every stricken bosom know 

That blessings e'er so great may be recalled by 
Heaven. 



56 POCAHONTAS. 

Just like a wounded bird who seeks its nest, 
With arrow pendent from its bleeding wing ; 

But ah ! he finds not there the promised rest, 
But bears to every place the secret sting. 

Years sped away ; the boy from childish grace 
Grew in his strength and lightness like the fawn ; 

Bearing the sunny impress of his race, 

Which mocks the noon of life more than its rosy 
dawn. 

Another annual round beheld the child 

Close by Matoa's side with footsteps free ; 

Or with the chieftain, 'mid the forest wild, 

In all the joy and pride of boyhood's happy glee. 

But ere the winter of that year was past, 
The tomb received the eaglet of the tribe ! 

O'er all the realm a sullen gloom was cast, 
Nor could affection's tear the tyrant bribe ! 

And O the mother's solitary grief! 

The father's anguish for his darling child ! 
What to her tortured soul can bring relief, 

Or soothe his sorrow, passionate and wild ? 



A FAMILY SKETCH. 57 

The young Matoa mourned the perished boy 

As if no future bliss could e'er impart 
Another ray of earth's too fleeting joy 

To her twice-stricken wilderness of heart. 

'Tis vain to tell the anguish that it flings 
O'er life's best hopes, an agony like this ; 

Nor can the pen impart the secret stings 
That pierce the buckler of our brightest bliss ! 

Youth suffers deeply. But when age can feel, 
Stript of the stoic calm which reason throws 

O'er later life, O then does sorrow steal 

Each cherished hope, steeping the soul in woes. 

No duplicate of bright and budding joys 

The sad heart loves to own in times like this ; 

Since that sweet unit which cold death destroys, 

Takes from life's bleeding source its modicum of 
bliss. 



58 POCAHONTAS. 



II. 



NANTAQUAS. 1 ? 



One son, the pledge of almost youthful love, 

From the great monarch claimed a parent's care ; 

Not given the joys of wedded life to prove, 
But of his boundless heritage, an heir. 

But wayward was Nantaquas' early days ; 

Evil still marked his course and nought of good ; 
E'en Fame in that rude age proclaimed his ways 

As stamped with crime, an Arab of the wood. 

Smile not at this, ye moralists profound, 
Who deem the sons of nature all uncouth ; 

Since in the forest denizen is found, 

Full oft, a generous feeling mixed with truth. 

Have ye not seen a gem of beauty rare, 
Hid 'neath a rough exterior ; or a meek 

And injured spirit, who would boldly dare 

Some glorious deed would pale a prouder cheek ? 



NANTAQUAS. 59 

The ore most valued, in its native bed 

Shows no intrinsic worth to common eyes : 

The flower when crushed its richest odours shed ; 
And wisdom blent with gentleness is more than wise. 

The gorgeous vault that heralds the bright sun, 
Marks where his fiery car refulgent gleams ; 

And though we love such light to gaze upon, 
We're charmed no less with its retiring beams. 

The doubtful glory of its tinting ray, 

When the full orb sinks 'neath the evening's gloom, 
Gives a sweet semblance of hope's balmy sway 

Rising in triumph from the darksome tomb ! 

Thus, nature gladdens oft the sense and soul, 
At morning's softest hour and evening's still ; 

But rebel passions, heedless of control, 

Mock the Creator's power, and roam the earth at will. 

The lawless son of meek Matoa's sire 

Owned no sweet influence of kindred band ; 

Dark was his sullen brow replete with ire 

Which scattered terror through his native land. 



60 POCAHONTAS. 

A second Absalom, he longed to grasp 
The regal sceptre by his father swayed ; 18 

And but that Fate denied the impious task, 

The monarch of the wood had in his grave been laid. 

Long had the Sachem of an hundred tribes 

Driven into exile far his reckless boy, 
Whose dark apostacy from nature's ties 

Could confidence and love for aye destroy ; 

But that the gentle Ila formed the plan 
By kind persuasion to reclaim the youth ; 

By turns instilling in the embryo man 

Mercy's sweet attribute, and guileless truth. 

Respect inspired the forest rover oft 

To list the dictates pure of virtue's law 
Given to his ear in accents firm, yet soft, 

Or mild rebuke, chastened with mingled awe. 

But Ila's counsels could no more prevail ; 

For death had sealed those lips whence wisdom flowed ; 
Then, shipwrecked was each hope, and passion's gale 

Swept with resistless force the good that was bestowed. 



NANTAQUAS. 61 

By every tribe of all the wide domain 

That bowed to Powhatan's imperial sway> 

Rev'renced and loved was Ila's gentle reign 
Which shed refining influence day by day. 

But perished was the charm, its shadow fled, 
Save what her own loved progeny retained ; 

Few mourned in verity the Queenly dead, 

Till twelve revolving moons their 'plenished horns had 
waned. 

Vain was each effort of Matoa's zeal 

To lure her brother from the ways of sin ; 

Or teach his uncurbed spirit how to feel 
The dignity of virtue throned within. 

Object of hate, he scorned her offered aid, 

Resisting still the eloquence of truth ; 
Though to his ear full oft the gentle maid 

Imparted lessons sage, though from the lips of youth. 

Fierce were his passions, full of hasty strife; 

Quenchless the anger that his bosom knew ; 
E'en dark revenge seemed meet for such a life, 

And with his manhood's strength together grew. 
6 



62 POCAHONTAS. 

Like jungle tiger from his hidden lair, 

Bounding in giant strength and ruthless force, 

Nantaquas' weapon knew not how to spare, 
Nor dreamed of mercy in its vengeful course. 

The ravening wolf, the vulture of the rock, 
Were emblems meet of cruelty so dire ; 

More fierce in ambush than the battle's shock : 
His was the scorpion's sting, — the Demon's fire. 

Though dark his passions, turbulent his life, 
" Passing away" was written on his brow ; 

And of his prowess, — of his Arab strife, — 
Scarce one wild legend tells the story now ! 

Gone is the race that once in triumph trod 
The boundless heritage to them decreed : 

Was it the hand of man, or scourge of God, 
That gave their hosts to suffer and to bleed '! 

Was exile, or the grave their portion still 1 

And for what guilt or crime were they oppressed ? 

Doubtless to work the sov'reign Maker's will, 
Or prove this truth, " On earth there is no rest !" 



NANTAQUAS. 63 

But passed forever from this troubled sphere, 
Melted like frost-work 'neath the solar ray, 

Victims of wrath, or policy severe, 

How are their dark memorials swept away ! 

Let not unhallowed hands the curtain raise 

When Heaven's high fiat would remain concealed ; 

Enough to offer ceaseless prayers and praise, 
Or bow submissive to the truths revealed. 



64 POCAHONTAS. 

BOOK III. 
I. 

19 



THE EXILE. 

The south winds sighed the woods among ; 

The virgins tuned their evening lay ; 
Though rude the minstrelsy, they sung 

In honour of returning May. 

For hearts to Nature's dictates true, 
Though all uncultured, may aspire 

Anthems to raise, forever due 
To Nature and to Nature's Sire. 

Amid this rural scene of song, 
One sat apart from all the throng ; 
Her Queenly brow, not passing fair, 
But beauty and repose were there. 20 

Some seventeen summers you might trace, 
Yet doubting, on the maiden's face. 
For not a smile of radiance shone, 
And hope's delusive ray was gone. 



THE EXILE. 65 

Deep buried in the earth's cold breast, 
With her who taught them first to glow, 

Lay every buoyant thought at rest 
Which erst illumed her polished brow. 

Yet, not alone the impress there, 

That sure hereditary seal 
Her Father owned, some new despair, 

Some mystery dark, none might reveal. 

O'er her dark hair's luxuriant fold 

Was thrown a cypress wreath of gloom ; 

And well her look of sorrow told 
How meet this emblem of the tomb. 

Listless she sat, yet not a tear 

Dimmed with its dew her pensive eye, 

Though oft the mute, attentive ear 
Might catch the echo of a sigh. 

Why heaves her maiden breast that sigh ? 

And why so mournful, sorrow's child ? 
Is it the sign of sympathy, 

Or deeper woe still unbeguiled ? 



66 POCAHONTAS. 

She starts ; for near her stands confessed 
The swarthy lineaments of one, 

By her rude Father's wayward hest, 
Late her betrothed, his plighted son. 

First in the chase, in counsel tried, 
The Chieftain of a mighty band, 

He proudly asks a royal bride, 

And seeks the maid's unwilling hand. 

There is a sympathy of soul, 

By nature's impress fondly given, 

That mocks at man and his control, 

Claiming the changeless stamp of Heaven. 

This gentle bond, this mystic tie, 
Responded not in that pure heart, 

Where filial love reigned quenchlessly, 
Seeming of very life a part. 

Chill was the glance and cold the tone 
Returned for many an uttered vow ; 

Like glacier 'neath the forest's frown, 
Or moonless night on polar snow. 



THE EXILE. 67 

Till reft of hope, the chieftain sought 

The influence of her royal sire, 
Whose uncurbed passions quickly caught 

The lava-flame of quenchless ire. 

What can withstand the tempest's sway ? 

What stem the forked lightning's path 1 
Or what vain hand would e'er essay 

To check the angry lion's path ? 

And man is like the tempest dire, 

When chafed by passion's stormy force ; 

The desert king, — the levin-fire, — 
Are not more baleful in their course. 

Bound by that spell, so dark, so dread, 

And spurning nature's fondest tie, 
The sire commands ; the gentle maid 

Is led like victim doomed to die ! 

For who might strive to calm his mood ? 

Who thwart a Sachem's high command ? 
As well attempt to bind the flood 

With silken thread or ozier band. 



POCAHONTAS. 

" Exile !" the haughty monarch cried ! 

" O'er the deep sea, where solar blaze 
" Rises triumphant o'er the tide, 

" Spreading afar his earliest rays, 

" There to abide, unloved, unsought, 
" Till twelve revolving moons are o'er ; 

" Or, till her icy soul has caught 

" The flame of this young Sagamore." 

Affection, blent with duty, still 
O'ermastered every rebel thought ; 

And, bending to the tyrant's will, 

The well-manned barge Matoa sought. 

For ne'er, indeed, in thought, in word 
Had that meek girl resistance given 

To one, who, with her soul's accord, 
She deemed the delegate of Heaven ! 

For months her gentle soul was filled 
With feelings ominous and dire; 

Nor knew the bond so nearly sealed 
Between the chieftain and her sire. 



THE EXILE. 69 

Oft, when the moon's broad orb on high 
Lit with its beams her joyless home, 

She sat alone, while many a sigh 
Echoed around the deepening gloom. 

The night-bird's solemn ditty broke 

The unchanged solitude around ; 
Or Muk-a-wis with plaintive note 

Came to her ear with soothing sound. 21 

Sometimes, as starting from a dream, 

With silent step she'd steal along 
To watch the fire-fly's tiny beam, 

As mirrored in the stream it shone. 

But when the darkness was dispelled, 

Hope's pinions fanned the maiden's breast ; 

And though a feeble lamp she held 
Of changeful gleam, it promised rest. 

For hope bears blossoms beautiful for all, 
Since flowers of Paradise were first create ; 

And many unlooked-for benefactions fall 
On those who deem their lot most desolate. 



70 POCAHONTAS. 

And sometimes dreams of rapture steal 
With cherished thoughts of future bliss ; 

And visions bright may oft reveal 

Scenes of a world more pure than this. 

In every heart where love has set his seal, 
Or joy his dancing myrmidons hath led, 

These fond illusions will insidious steal 

To wreathe their spells around the trusting head. 

Not like despair that triumphs for a while, 
But never meant in Nature's bounds to stay; 

And though the rayless zenith hath no smile, 
Returning gladness dawns with coming day. 

The gloom of Nature seldom starless is ; 

So mental night, however brooding o'er, 
Oft leaves a picture of some latent bliss, 

And brings the bosom hope, if nothing more. 

Yet scarce one ray of perfect hope 
Found in her wounded bosom scope ; 
Since cold neglect and added scorn 
Had been her lot from eve till morn. 



THE EXILE. 71 

For, when from war or chase returned, 
Nantacittas' breast with fury burned ; 
Nor smiled her father's saddened brow, 
Which always stern, was darker now ! 

Her young companions all essayed 
To cheer the sorrows of the maid, 
Ere yet was given the harsh decree 
To bear her o'er the foaming sea. 

But since to banishment consigned, 
No maiden's presence cheered her mind 
On Accomac's far dreary shore 
Where winds and waves alternate roar ; 

And human forms, more savage still, 
Dwelt, reckless all of good or ill. 
What joy, what hope could ever come 
To grace the exile's distant home ! 

This narrow spot or isthmian band 
Owned Powhatan's imperial sway ; 

The eastern bound of that fair land 
Which claims the sun's reviving ray, 



72 POCAHONTAS. 

When rising from his ocean caves 
He breaks the links of soft repose ; 

Tinging the dark Atlantic waves 
With crimson dye or palest rose. 

But what of Nature's earliest scene 
Could starry vault, or wave serene 
Impart to her sad spirit now, 
Or yet illume her pensive brow ? 

The cruel mandate of her sire 

Seemed to her ear as sounding still, 

Though passed was every beacon fire, 
And passed each watch-light on the hill. 

And calmly, 'mid the painted throng, 
Companions of her wayward fate, 

As the dark vessel bore along, 
In musing mood the Princess sat. 

She thought on childhood's fleeting hours, 
How full of hope and joyous glee ! — 

The forest stream, — the meadow flowers, — 
And the soft sunlight o'er the lea. 



THE EXILE. 73 

And memory, with delusive wile, 

Each scene with magic touch arrayed, 

Where a fond Mother's tender smile 
Beamed warmly on her Indian maid ! 

From these loved scenes of early youth, 
The sacred mounds to memory dear ; 

From well tried friends of guileless truth, 
She parted for a long, long year ! 

Have you e'er felt the barbed dart 
Fall darkly on the stricken heart, 
When not e'en hope remained to bless 
The desert of your loneliness ? 

It is, as if the silent tomb 
Had oped its iron gates of gloom, 
And its sepulchral voice came o'er 
The spirit's ear, " Ye live no more !" 

As the deep surges' lullaby 

The mournful silence broke, 
To new and bitter agony 

The hapless girl awoke, 



74 POCAHONTASL 

To feel the solitude, — the gloom, — 

'Mid desolation's woes, 
The thrilling silence of the tomb, 

Without its calm repose ! 

She dwelt with many a withering thought 

On changes sad and wild, 
Since in her Father's rural court 

She lived a favoured child. 

That Father, now alas ! how changed ! 

A desert place that spot ! 
And its loved inmates all estranged, 

Nor mourned the exile's lot. 

The blast that withers quite the rose 
But bares its thorns to view ; — 

Thus memory brings our keenest woes, 
And wounds the soul anew. 

We weep that flowers so fleeting are ; 

We weep that thorns abide ; 
And every change demands a tear 

On life's uncertain tide. 



THE EXILE. 75 

And doubly changeful is the lot 

Of one who strives for fame ; 
His private virtues all forgot, 

When gained a poet's name ! 

For seldom is a spirit found 

That soars above our earth, 
But grovelling ones who love the ground, 
Think every pledge of duty bound 

To crush his hope's young birth. 

Whether in science' mystic vale, 

Or pure religion's mount, 
How many scorn to list his tale, 

Would stir his crystal fount ; 

And tell to all the vulgar throng, 

That reason never blends 
Where genius sways, or fancy strong 

Her fairy pinion lends. 

O heed them not ; for virtues rare 

May with the bright ideal live ; 
Since He who formed creation fair, 

Its jewels to the meek will give. 



76 POCAHONTAS. 

But pass we from this thoughtful mood, 
And leave the moralist to prose, 

Whilst down the soft and silvery flood 
We trace Matoa and her woes. 

How sad her bosom none can tell ! 

Nor how she mourned her early home ; 
Or how her boding spirit fell 

At dark misfortunes yet to come. 

The royal Sachem's wigwam fair, 

On that proud stream that bore his name, 

Was desert now ; nor Prince, nor Peer, 
Within its ruined precincts came. 22 

But swart Eringa, childless, wept 
The death-blow of her hope and joy ; 

Alone, the faded relic kept, 

The memory of her perished boy; 

While ranging forest, field and lea, 

The haughty king had marked the shore 

Where York's broad bosom to the sea 
Its tributary waters bore. 



THE EXILE. 77 

There rose his standards high to view, 

The signals dark of savage ire : — a 
There moored each Brave his light canoe, 

And flamed afresh the beacon fire. 

'Twas here, in this sequestered place, 
Where nature's pristine beauties lay, 

That, tired of war and of the chase, 
The monarch wore his life away ; 

When chafed by ills that life had told, 

And darker ruin o'er him came ; 
When the pale hand, with daring bold, 

Oft wrapped those forest homes in flame ! 

There, too, the exiled maiden roved, 
Ere his harsh mandate bade her roam ; 

Yet ne'er had bright Matoa loved 
York's borders, like her early home. 

Twice had the sun revolving seen 

The woes of man and eke his pride, 
Since the sad exile's bark had been 

Borne on that blue and flowing tide. 

7* 



78 POCAHONTAS. 

Another dawn beheld it tossed 

By waves' tempestuous woe the while, 

Till, drenched with rain, their rudder lost, 
Wrecked was the skiff on Cedar Isle. 24 

This lovely isle, like one of yore, 

Planted amid a wilder wave, 
Un tasted fruits of summer bore, 

And balmy dews to evening gave. 

But fell disease had marked the place, 
And pestilential breezes played, 

Like blasting Upas o'er its face, 

Where towered in pride the myrtle's shade. 

Unheeded by man's watchful eye, 
The crested serpent dwelt alone ; 

And monsters of the deep would hie 
To bask them in the solar noon. 

Unknown those brakes, unken'd those bowers 
Where nature's full luxuriance lay ; 

Nor heeded were its loveliest flowers, 
While wept its streams their life away. 



THE EXILE. 79 

Of late, an Argosy of cost, 

By tempest driven, or calms delayed, 
With arduous toil had neared the coast, 

Their trans-atlantic friends to aid. 25 

From Albion's chalky cliffs she bore, 

Bound to Virginia's fertile strand ; 
But the rough breakers on the shore 

Denied them access to the land. 

Till spent with want, o'ercome by toil, 

Bereft of all save hope's soft smile, 
How hailed her crew the welcome soil, 

Though all unknown, of Cedar Isle. 

Knights and Esquires from thraldom free, 
With wild delight the scene surveyed ; 

Deeming such rural spot might be 
Sacred to Fauns and Druids made. 

For yet high chivalry inspired 

The restless sons of Albion's Isle; 
And gay romance each vision fired, 

And love and fame and beauty's smile. 



80 POCAHONTAS. 

These prompted many a daring crew 
To tempt the ocean's briny wave, 

In search of countries wild and new, 
That nature in her bounty gave. 

Perhaps, impelled by such desires, 
By love of change far more than gain, 

Our country's brave, adventurous sires, 
First crossed the broad Atlantic main. 

But woe to them, the tribes of Ind ; 

The forest sons, so bold and free ,* 
The dark avenger was behind, — 

The scourge — the shaft of destiny ! 

And vain is every fond regret ; 

Our speculations vain and wild ; 
The sun of hope forever set 

On forest king, and nature's child ! 

'Twas morning ; and the softened ray 
Of twilight lent its soothing power, 

More grateful than the blaze of day 
To man and beast, to herb and flower. 



THE EXILE. 81 

Now, chased by bright Apollo's car, 

The murky clouds depart awhile ; 
Hushed was the elemental jar, 

And nature donned her gayest smile. 

But soon a fiery radiance came ; 

High in the zenith rose the sun 
Like tropic noon ; its heat the same 

When Sinus' angry course is run. 

Innumerable insects filled 

The thickened air at evening's hour ; 
Unwholesome dews the night distilled 

From forest tree and myrtle bower. 

In haste they leave the dreaded isle, 

Which morning's dawn so sweetly fann'd ; 

With disappointed hopes the while, 
They darkly seek a safer strand. 

What recked the crew of treasures lost, 
When life itself seemed threatened there ? 

Can gold or gems repay the cost 

Of banished health and growing care ? 



82 POCAHONTAS. 

For used to more salubrious clime 
Of England's free and happy home, 

'Neath southern suns, 'mid autumn's prime, 
Her hardiest veterans feared to roam. 

But turn we to Matoa now, 

And the dark guardians of her fate 

With lips compressed, and gloomy brow, 
Expressive both of scorn and hate. 

For well his tribes with love and zeal 
Their monarch's every hest obeyed, 

Though some among the band might feel 
Pity's sweet influence for the maid. 

One youthful boy, whose changing glance 
Was raised anon with hope or fear, 

Eyed the bright girl with looks askance, 
Or stayed his breath her voice to hear ! 

Who may not read the riddle through, 
And tell that love inspired the Page ? 

Love most devoted, warm and true, 
Such as obtained in tender age, 



THE EXILE. 83 

When hearts are pure, and visions gay, 

Ere worldly care or worldly woe 
Has marred young Nature's holiday, 

And taught th' unwilling tear to flow. 

Of noble lineage was the youth, 

Dark Opekankano's loved boy, 
The mirror he of savage truth ; 

A gentle mother's only joy. 

Much had he seen that ripened man 

In that rude age did ne'er aspire ; 
'Mid realms unknown, with Powhatan, 

He'd fanned full many a Sachem's fire. 

And when returned, his guileless heart 
Bowed at the shrine of mighty love ; 

But ah ! the quiver held no dart 
Responsive, nor did fate approve. 

Witless, the Sagamore ordained 

This noble youth Matoa's page ; 
Nor dreamed that passion's sway had gained 

Dominion o'er his tender age. 



84 POCAHONTAS. 

But vain was every idle vow 

His heart upon Love's altar laid, 

Cold as the forest's unsunned snow ; 
Yet grateful was the gentle maid. 

One boon she claimed, that, ne'er denied, 
He might her guardian spirit prove ; 

'Twas that through life they, side by side, 
Should talk of friendship, not of love. 

And well he kept his plighted word 

From youth to manhood, thence to age ; 

Still stronger grew the mystic cord, 
That bound Matoa and her page. 

Onward, by giant strength impelled, 
Their lightning course the oarsmen held, 

Till anchored in the Bay 
Where many a river, broad and deep, 
Urges its course with headlong sweep 

To meet the ocean's spray. 

There windbound was the thriftless bark ; 
The. leaden clouds grew densely dark, 
Portentous of a gale. 



THE EXILE. 85 



The leader of the savage band 
Looked out in vain for friendly land, 
Or e'en a doubtful sail. 

But rising in its mighty wrath, 

The tempest swept their seaward path, 

Lit by the levin flame. 
Swift 'fore the scudding blast they go 
From mountain wave to vale below, 

Till to that Isle they came. 

Escaped from elemental strife, 
Each deemed he bore a charmed life 

From dangers still secure, 
Till righted was their vessel's sides, 
Impervious made to winds and tides, 

By process rude but sure. 

Here late the English convoy stood, 
When tired of tempest, toil and flood, 

She deemed an harbour found ; 
But panic-struck, her watch and ward, 
From counter-stern to foremast guard, 

Fled the enchanted ground. 



8 



86 POCAHONTAS. 

There, wandered mournfully the maid, 
Like one deserted and betrayed, 

On that sequestered shore. 
That Indian Page of noble race 
Walked by her side with quiet grace, 

Or pioneered before. 

He stops entranced ; before him lay, 
Reflecting back the blaze of day, 

Something of dazzling light 
Encased in gold. 26 With diamonds wrought, 
It seemed from far Golconda brought, 

With gems so pure and bright. 

Matoa viewed the wondrous prize, 
Not with the gaze of vulgar eyes, 

As mindful of its worth ; 
But as a treasure kindly given 
To soothe a soul by sorrow riven, 

With solace not of earth. 

The casket of the glittering thing 
Opened by magic or by spring, 
And there disclosed such grace 



THE EXILE. 87 



Of differing feature, differing shade 
From the dark Page or fairer maid, 
And all their swarthy race. 

Yet bore the " human face divine," 
With modest eye of doubtful shine, 

And locks of deepened gold, 
That Fancy, in her wildest flight, 
Not hope by day, or dream by night, 

Had e'er such visions told ! 



88 POCAHONTAS. 



II. 



THE RETURN. 



Months rolled away. The exiled maid, 
Resigned, endured her hapless lot ; 

With rev'rence meet her sire obeyed, 
Yet ne'er the tyrant hand forgot. 

Twelve full-orbed moons' resplendent beams 
Had waxed and waned their borrowed fire, 

Since, 'mid those distant vales and streams, 
Matoa wept her absent sire : 

Since exiled by his harsh command 
To Accomac's resounding shore ; 

Where, like a giant's arm, the land 

Binds the dark wave, nor heeds its roar. 

Once on a voyage of hazard bent, 
The monarch met his gentle child, 

As with the youthful Page she went 
To list the sea-dirge echoing wild. 



THE RETURN. 89 

For much she loved, in saddest hour, 

The spirits of the deep to hear, 
When rose their more than human power 

In murmurings low upon the ear; 

Ere yet from ocean caves arose 

Those symphonies, so darkly dread ; 

Those discord-notes, which tell the throes 
Of Nature in her secret bed. 

Sometimes by tempest they are told 

When sweeps its wrath the watery world ; 

And oft in torrents fierce and bold, 
From deep volcanic sources hurled. 

'Mid eve's still hour, in sombre mood, 

Matoa sought the beachen strand ; 
When came her Father o'er the flood 

That bore her from her natal land. 

But short their colloquy. One look 

With varied signs, sufficed to show 
That not one thought of Arraook 

Was mingled with Matoa's woe. 

8* 



90 POCAHONTAS. 

How oft, alas ! does human art 
Defeat its own deep practised wile ; 

And, free the unsuspecting heart, 
Its chiefest care is to beguile ! 

Long had Matoa owned the sway 
Of reason and refinement sweet ; 

Nor scorned the youths that, day by day, 
Knelt willing captives at her feet. 

But with the firmness Nature gave, 
Blent with the mildness of the dove, 

While yet she soothed each tender Brave, 
Forbade to whisper thoughts of love. 

Again recalled, she sought the court 
Where regal pomp held mimic sway ; 

But stranger-beings there resort, 
Unheard of in her early day. 

For ne'er had stranger footsteps been 
Within the rural monarch's reign ; 

Nor other eyes the mysteries seen 

With doubting heart or thought profane. 



THE RETURN. 91 

Before the monarch's presence stood 

A graceful form with radiant eye ; 
With power unfelt, but purpose good, 

To cloud his star's dark destiny ; 

Held by the thews of forest deer, 

Alone this mystic being stands. 27 
O ! was it rev'rence, love, or fear 

That bade Matoa burst his bands ? 

And when, condemned by ruthless hate, 28 
His life-blood doomed to flow around, 

Her courage stayed the victim's fate, 
And bared her bosom to the wound. 

And even when the ready knife, 

Seemed thirsting for the pale man's blood, 

Threat'ning wild vengeance on a life 
Devoted to the public good, 

The watchful, kind Matoa came 

Like winged seraph from afar, 
Sweet Mercy's errands to proclaim, 

And heal the feuds of savage war. 



92 POCAHONTAS. 

For in her heart's most secret core 
Mercy's sweet impress still was found, 

Ere on the desert Isle's rude shore, 

Was touched th' elastic cord by which her 
soul was bound. 

But changes came. The visions fair 
Of full dominion prompts the deed. 

The infant colony to spare, 

The gallant forest sons must bleed ! 

O ! could we hide 'neath tenfold gloom, 
And blot from the historic page 

The fiat dark, — the red man's doom 
In this, his ancient heritage ! 

Does not a kindling blush betray 
Shame and confusion for our sires 

Who ruled their foes with cruel sway, 

And quenched with blood their forest fires 1 

Unhallowed was the ruthless crime, 

Calling for retribution still ! 
A stain that triumphs over time ; — 

A sable monument of ill ! 



THE RETURN. 93 

What though the wily chieftains strove 

To stay the progress of that race ; 
To check their " banner-cross of love" 

Which bore not mercy's faintest trace ? 

Treachery to treachery was applied 

To work on man a Demon's woe ! 
And force to force alternate tried 

By the invader and the foe ! 

" Conquest and spoil !" the watchwords given, 
When passed the dark Atlantic wave 

By those the delegates of Heaven, 

Whose emblems peace and freedom gave. 

Then where the aggressor ? Who can tell 

The dark, mysterious story now 
Of wrongs avenged, — of passions fell, — 

The treach'rous deed, — the broken vow ! 

But time that writes " nought fadeless here," 
Has scathed each hero's laurelled path ; 

And Heaven's full record gives fore'er 
The 'plenished vials of its wrath ! 



94 POCAHONTAS. 

The halcyon on the ocean's spray, 
Sweet harbinger of coming spring, 

Heeds not the rising tempest's sway, 
But rides the wave with tireless wing. 

And man, unmindful of his doom, 

Pursues the fairy phantoms still 
Fearless ; as if the silent tomb 

Ne'er triumphed over good and ill. 

Thy fate, sweet maid,-— Matoa now no more,29 
But Pocahontas,— name forever dear, — 

Was fraught with every stamp of worldly woe ; — 
Sad exile, — hopeless love, — and bondage drear. 

How did her gentle sympathies arise 

For the pale captive of her father's crown, 

When, as she deemed, from climes beyond the skies, 
Bright hope had lured some kindred spirit down. 

For such the Hero seemed of purer race, 
Like the loved image of her dreaming bliss : 

In form all majesty, divine in face ; 

Too fair, too gentle, for a world like this. 



THE RETURN. 95 



Something her fancy cherished, unrevealed 
E'er since her guileless bosom bore a gem, 

A talisman enshrined, from all concealed ; 

But worth to nature's child a world's gay diadem. 



Smith scorned her heart's idolatry, since none 
But wayward feelings claimed their altar-place ; 

And he whose valour prouder dames had won, 
Yielded not e'en to her, the purest of her race. 

The beaming crescent, by his stalwart arm, 
Had oft been shorn of radiance in his course, 

While Eastern beauty owned the magic charm 
Of dauntless courage blent with mental force. 



POCAHONTAS. 



III. 



THE VISIT AND PROPHECY. 



With sad serenity, the Indian maid 

Felt hope's expiring breath her bosom thrill ; 

Yet bound by fate, its influence she obeyed, 
And nerved her spirit to its sovereign will. 

With joyless steps she left her father's courts, 
(For darkened was his brow to Ila's child,) 30 

Since there each magic Werowance resorts, 31 
Treach'rous by nature and for vengeance wild. 

Alone and unattended on she roved, 

Not e'en by Tomocomo, ever good, 
Her faithful page, who without reason loved, 

And left his father's state to guard her o'er the flood. 

Who would have deemed, a few brief years agone, 
That she, the bright " Snow-Feather" of her tribe, 

Should, homeless, friendless, desolate, alone, 
Brave dangers that the muse may not describe. 



THE VISIT AND PROPHECY. 97 

But what will war's wild evils not effect, 
Severing alike the chain of birth and kind, 

Leaving full oft the child to rude neglect, 

And the fond mother reft of peace and mind ! 

And now its ravages were carried through 
The boundless realms of mighty Powhatan, 

While fire and sword like blazing beacon flew, 
Prostrating every art of savage man ; 

Till tired with bloodshed, sickened with alarms, 

The meek " Snow-Feather," bowed with many a woe, 

Resolved to seek a kinsman's open arms, 
Who offered safety from the common foe. 

As yet, the rumour had alone been heard 

O'er the soft borders of the quiet lea, 
Where dark Japazaw his rude palace reared : 

A seeming friendly chief, of distant kindred he. 

How the old Chieftain kept his plighted vow, 

The sequel will disclose in fitting time : 
Guileless herself, as yet she knew not how 

The path to avarice may end in crime. 
9 



98 POCAHONTAS. 

Oft had the pale man been her welcome guest, 

And oft sweet mercy's charm had been essayed 
To 'suage the passions of each angry breast ; 
On either side the suffering friend to aid. 

But anarchy prevailed ; her much loved land 
Was torn by discord both with friend and foe ; 

Then sought th' reluctant maid a safer strand, 
To hide her Father's frown and mitigate her woe. 

Full many a glorious sun had sunk to rest, 
And fired the zenith with its noontide heat, 

Since, weary, wandering with perturbed breast, 
She sought repose within some calm retreat. 

To broad Potomac's banks she bent her way, 
Heedless of comfort or of kindred ties ; 

Alone, unfriended, after many a day 

She marks the wigwams of Japazaw rise. 

Sequestered was the spot, from war remote, 
Safe from alarums of the common foe ; 

No tocsin here had oped its brazen throat, 
Nor blood-stained records told of endless woe. 



THE VISIT AND PROPHECY. 99 

The wily Sachem of that land of flowers 
A seeming welcome to the stranger sent ; 

While his gay maidens, 'mid their dewy bowers, 
On every soothing care were fondly bent. 



Thus oft, alas ! the sycophantic smile 

The trusting bosom lures but to beguile ; 

For ere the maiden reached his quiet home, 

A herald from the foe with offered bribes had come. 



Close by the sounding beach, alone and free, 

Her hut, adorned with symbols most uncouth, 
Feared and yet rev'renced by her tribe was she, 

An oracle of more than common truth, 
There dwelt an aged crone of other years, 

The child of mystery, 32 whose sightless eyes 
Saw the dim future, 'reft of boding fears, 

Before her gifted visions nightly rise. 



Far other greetings to the toil-worn maid, 
This withered Sibyl of Potomac spoke ; 

One wasted hand on that smooth brow she laid, 
Then into strains prophetic loudly broke. 



100 POCAHONTAS. 

" Here rest thy weary head" — 

Thus Manatowa said — 
" And bathe thy wounded feet within this stream ; 

" Here from thy troubles rest ; 

" No cares shall thee molest, 
" Nor aught intrude upon thy youthful dream. 

" The image on thy breast 
" Be close and closer pressed. 
" Who shall displace it from its rightful home ? 

u Not haughty Arraook, Japazaw's swarthy son, 
" Who deemed the promise gained, the vict'ry won ; 
" Nor other of his race 
" Shall find the favoured place, 
" Were he the bravest, wisest of his kind, 
" And gave the diadem thy brows to bind, — 
" Till he of destiny the choice from distant lands shall 
" come. 

" In thy bright clime, sweet daughter of the sun, 
" Is many a deed of cruel vengeance done ; 

" But in my quiet home 

" No dreaded war-whoops come, 
" Waking the echoes of this time-worn wood ; 

" Nor the pale strangers stand 

" Girt with the murd'rous brand, 
" Bathed to the hilt in friends' and kindred's blood. 



THE VISIT AND PROPHECY. 101 

" Then rest thee, gentle maid, 

" In this sequestered shade, 
" Safe from thy father's frown, — the foeman's knife ; 

" And lend a listening ear 

" To what but few may hear 
" Of past, of present and of future life. 

" My eyes, unveiled, beheld the dawn 

" Of young creation's rosy birth ; 
" The outspread curtains of the morn ; 

" The props and pillars of our earth ! 

" The song of seraphs rose and fell 
" In concert with the planets' sigh ; 

" Till waked the anthem's holy swell 
" To universal harmony ! 

" For what to the prophetic mind 
" Is darkly vague and undefined 
" In all of wisdom, truth and love, 
" Sent by the Spirit from above ? 

" That Spirit great, who rules the winds, 
" And with his hand the tempest binds, 

" Gives to the soul its hallowed light, 
" When quenched the outward eye in night. 
9* 



102 POCAHONTAS. 

" The visions brighten as they pass, 
" Like morning's sunlight o'er the grass. 
" Trees, — mountains, — continents of sand, 
" And floods that mingle sea and land, 
" With other shadowy things, arise 
" Like magic forms before mine eyes ! 

" First in their order sadly come 

" The exiles from their own loved home 

" Of this and future time ; 
" And, as my soul may dimly trace 
" The features of my swarthy race, 

" Behold ! another clime ! 

" Then darker, stranger sights appear, 
" That fill me with a boding fear ! 
" For round me move, in dark array, 
" The Patriarchs of a former day : 33 
M Those whom our Fathers say began 
" The race of dark apostate man. 

" A shadowy Sceptre first appears ; 34 
" A Lion's grasp this symbol holds, 

" While, in the vale of coming years, 
" I mark a shepherd guard his folds. 



THE VISIT AND PROPHECY. ] 03 

" Lo ! these depart ! An Ensign stands 
" Upheld in midst by bloody hands I 35 
" O ! enter not my soul with theirs 
" Whose evil way is set with snares ! 

" But quick these pageants fade away, 
" As stars are quenched at dawn of day ; 
" And goodly ' ships of Tarshish' seem 
" The mimic product of a dream, 

" Full many a passing change is there, 
" Mingled with hope and with despair ; 
" For on the purple throne of state 
" Another and another sat. 

" And now a stranger scene appears : 
• " A warrior, rudely clad for war. 36 
" A stately courser proudly bears 
" This airy form to climes afar. 
" But 'neath the tropic's sickly sky 
" Lo ! horse and rider prostrate lie. 

" Was it the SamiePs angry breath 
" That doomed them to an early death ? 
" No ; 'twas the serpent's venomed fang 
" Unseen, inflicts the deadly pang. 



104 POCAHONTAS. 

" Still other forms around me float ; 

" Forgot their names, — their day remote, — 

" But legends yet may tell 
" Of fruitful boughs and branches fair, 
" All clustering in the summer air 

" Around an eastern well. 37 

" And last of all, in snowy field, 
" Broad as a Sachem warrior's shield, 
" A dark-red Hind, of noble race, 33 
" Bends his tall form to win the chase. 
" Antlered and old this forest king, 
" And bears the barbed arrow's sting. 

" The prize, a banner not unfurled, 

" But destined for the western world, 

" When high commands shall bid them go » 

" Far o'er the trackless wastes of snow, 

" Where icy fetters bind the main 

" And freedom's sons are free again. 

" No more the harp shall utter sighs ; 
" No more the captive's songs arise 
" By Chebar's stream or Tigris' wave, 
" The captive's home, the captive's grave, 



THE VISIT AND PROPHECY. 105 

" Where Babylon's proud turrets frowned, 
" And willows sweep the humid ground. 

" Fate broods upon the Red Man's darkened land ; 
" His tribes are scattered by the ocean blast ; 
" For the Great Spirit hath his arrows cast, 
" Nor can the strong ones stay his mighty hand. 
" On ! to the set of sun, 
" Where other lands are won ; 
" The last, last hunting ground of all your race. 
" Ye must not dwell where those bright orbs arise 
" By day and night, alternate in the skies ; 
" But where the evening gray 
" Shadows the sleepy day, 
" And occidental sands your weary footsteps trace. 

" A dream came o'er me in my troubled sleep, 
" Whose very memory bids me wake and weep. 
" Borne upon pinions like the mountain bird, 
" A being not of earth, 
" Nor yet of mortal birth, 
" Swept through the air. I trembled as I heard 
" The deep'ning thunders to the Red Men come, 
" While muttered echoes spoke their awful doom ! 



106 POCAHONTAS. 

" c Years, ages, times, shall pass away, 
" c And melt ye like the ocean's spray ! 
" i Pale faces shall your Sachems urge 
" < To the broad world's remotest verge ! 

" i Fallen the dark forests of your rest : 
" c Cultured the earth above each breast : 
" ' Your tribes, your names no longer known ; 
" « Upturned for aye your altar-stone. 39 

" * For retribution, full and dark, 
" ' Th' apostate sons of Irad mark ! 
" c Tribes of a wandering heritage ! 
" c Yet chosen, loved ; in former age 

" i The adopted sons of Heaven !' — 
" Thus low in my prophetic ear 
" Sounds seldom heard methinks I hear, 

" In dark, mysterious accents given ! 

" Yet to my soul, as clear, as bright 
" As summer sunlight o'er the wave 

" Mirrored in calm and mellow light 
" Above the sleeping seaman's grave ! 

" Who, who shall mark the Spirit's path ? 

" Who bide the lightning of his wrath ? 



THE VISIT AND PROPHECY. 107 

" No more my failing visions find 
" The past dark records of my kind ; 
" Not e'en the curse that comes to all 

" The dastard sons of Europe's race 
" From out these withered lips shall fall ; 

" Nor can my hand their fiat trace ; 
" Yet vengeance dire, with scorpion sting, 
<l And shame's dark blush, shall ages bring ! 

" But thou, the beautiful, the meek, 

" Ere twenty summers fan thy cheek, 40 

" Shall in another clime appear ; 

" The white man's voice thy heart shall cheer. 

" His arm shall be thy trusting place, 
" Far from thy sire, thy home, thy race, 
" Till the Great Spirit call away 
" Thy chastened soul to endless day ! 

" There, where the breakers ceaseless roar, 
" And white sails glitter in the sun, 41 

" Upon a bleak and foreign shore 
" Thy feeble sands of life are run ! 

" While bending o'er with dark despair, 
11 A loved one breathes a secret prayer ; 



108 POCAHOJSTAS. 

" And gentle forms shall round thee keep 
" Their nightly vigils, while they weep 
" The young, the lovely, and the good, 
" Swept darkly down time's rapid flood. 

" From thy soft couch's crimson fold, 
" As nestling like an unfledged bird, 42 

" Amid its cushions starred with gold, 
" An infant's plaintive voice is heard ; 

" For ere the shadowy form thou bear 
" Thy country claims its destined heir ; 
" Since 'tis ordained, that none beside 
" Who feels the Red Man's sanguine tide 

" His bounding pulses thrill, 
" In any era, time or age 
" In this his ancient heritage, 43 

" Shall camp or council fill. 

" For thy proud scions long shall stand 
" The props and bulwarks of the land ; 
" In counsel wise, in battle bold, 

" Till quenched yon orb of living fire ; 
" Till moon and stars grow dim and old, 

" And even Nature's self expire ! 



THE VISIT AND PROPHECY. 109 

" No more a wand'rer in this weary land, 
" My spirit seeks for aye a purer home, 

" Where my dead kindred, now a blessed band, 
" 'Neath cloudless skies, 'mid ceaseless verdure roam." 

Calm and serene as summer morn, 
Ere yet the zephyr's sigh is born, 

The aged Sibyl rose. 
Her head erect, her form elate, 
She seemed to mock at human fate, 

And triumph o'er its woes ! 

But scarce another moment passed ; 
Dark Manatowa, 'twas thy last ! 
Short was the hour of deadly strife 
That loosed the silvery cord of life ! 
The golden bowl was broken there ; 
The fountain sealed of her despair ! 

A solemn awe was spread around, 
Unmingled with the lightest sound, 

Till old Japazaw rose. 
His bony frame was worn with care ; 
Dark was his brow, and stern his air 

'Neath eighty winters' snows. 
10 



HO POCAHONTAS. 

A sable bier he bade them spread 
To bear the venerable dead 

To her last quiet sleep : 
And o'er her withered form to place 
Each treasured trophy of her race, 44 

For aye the shrine to keep. 

Upon her aged bosom bare, 

The severed locks of thin gray hair 

In mystic order laid ; 
To the dark Spirit of the tomb 
Who shrouds himself in deepest gloom 

An offering fitly paid ; 

With many a relic of her art, 
From generations set apart, 

Or known in later day ; 
A vial's liquid treasure there, 45 
With fang of reptile, claw of bear, 

In mystical array. 

No mass, no holy prayer was said 
O'er the mute presence of the dead ; 46 
But issuing from their wigwams came 
Each noble sire and stately dame, 
And maiden of the land. 



THE VISIT AND PROPHECY. U\ 

Next marched the Braves of high degree, 
The pride of savage chivalry, 
A dark and fearful band. 

The stranger maid, with tearful eye, 
Beheld this pomp and pageantry ; 
Nor for a time remembered e'er 
What lately filled her soul with fear. 

All selfish feelings lulled to rest 

In Manatowa's fate, 
The clust'ring sorrows of her breast, 

And e'en Japazaw's hate. 

For secret councils had been held 
Of doubtful purpose, unrevealed ; 
And darkly cold each parent's look 
For slighted love of Arraook. 

While changed each brow of young and old, 
Since her high fate the Sibyl told ; 
And ill disguised 'neath flattery's spell 
The deep designs but formed too well ; 
What 'twas within their bosoms rose 
Of treacherous deed, let time disclose. 



112 POCAHONTAS. 



BOOK IV. 



I. 



THE CAPTIVITY. 



Arriving from a foreign shore, 47 
Where mingled waters gladly pour 

Their tribute to the main, 
A gallant vessel, gaily manned, 
By tides propelled, by breezes fanned, 

Where'er the hope of gain. 

Her snowy sails were uncon fined, 
Her banners streaming in the wind, 
With " Rampant Lion" midway seen, 
The " Thistle" and the " Rose" between ; 

While good St. George, that stalwart knight 
Who tamed the scaly Dragon's might, 
Rose high above in sable field, 
With < ; Gules" and " Or" around the shield. 



THE CAPTIVITY. 113 

But drooping, wan, as weeping there, 

The badge of Erin trailed along. 
(Famed for high deeds and beauty rare 

Is still that Emerald Isle of song.) 

Oil had dissembling foes essayed 

To win within their hated toils 
The meek, yet noble Indian maid, 

To aid their cause and crown their spoils. 

But Pocahontas, wise and good, 

Resisted every practised lure ; 
And 'mid the mazes of the wood, 

Alone and friendless felt secure ; 

Till treachery again assailed, 

With promised pledge of friendly aid ; 

And old Japazaw thus prevailed 
Against the hapless Indian maid. 

Mayhap the son, mayhap the sire, 

With vengeful spirit for the cause, 
And filled with hate or jealous ire, 

Trampled on hospitable laws. 
10* 



114 POCAHONTAS. 

How oil will stratagem succeed 

Where love and friendship might despair ! 
And doubly treach'rous was the deed 

That whelmed a guest in woe and care. 

How was thy spirit chafed, sweet maid, 
When, all deserted and forlorn, 

Thy confidence beguiled, betrayed, 
A prisoner thou in life's young morn ! 

Up the tall vessel's side they bore, 

With doubting heart yet dauntless eye ; 

Then artful, sought the beachen shore, 
While victim she of treachery ! 

When all secured the valued prize, 
The faithless ones themselves-depart 

With feigned tears and practised sighs 
That seemed to rive the stricken heart. 

Now, fore and aft, the willing hands 
The tightened canvass all unbind 

With skill, obey each loud command 
To fly before the rising wind. 



THE CAPTIVITY. 115 

To well known scenes they bend their way ; 

Though poor the freight, how rich the prize 
They bore adown the widening bay, 

Till James's beetling shores arise ; 

Nor rest their labours for repose, 
As evening's sombre curtains close ; 
Though surges dash along the shore, 
And ebbing currents ceaseless roar. 

The wily Captain of the crew 

In vain essayed to calm the fear 
Of that bright girl, whose sorrows drew 

From many an eye the sympathetic tear. 



Now changed the word ! Argal commands, 
Though short the course they have to run, 

To peak an anchor in the sands, 
And there await another sun. 

No cause assigned for such delay, 
So late by word and deed denied. 

Some said that ere the close of day 
A distant sail they had espied 



116 POCAHONTAS. 

Far out to seaward, where the wave 
Takes broader base and deeper hue ; 

Where billows wild the ramparts lave, 
And gleams the skies with purer blue. 

That night, in calm unbroken sleep 

All lay, but such as vigils keep, 

And the sad maid who wakes to weep, 

Nor courted sweet repose. 
Her thoughts were on her native land; 
Her own bright nymphs, a sunny band ; 
On fair Virginia's woody strand, 

Ere her dark days arose. 

Nor knew the luckless pris'ner where 
Would stay her wanderings and despair ; 
Wliat soothe her sadness and her care ; 

If on a foreign shore, 
Or in the grave where all may rest 
With green turf on each weary breast, 
Where fears nor evils e'er molest 

The sorrowing victim more. 

But morn, in saffron mantle clad, 
Rose blushing from the laughing sea, 



THE CAPTIVITY. 117 

And wakened from their dreamings glad 
The wave-borne sons of revelry. 

A ship, from Britain's glorious isle, • 

That mighty empress of the sea, 
They cheer with many a welcome smile, 

As waves her pennon broad and free. 

The full breeze oped her swelling sails ; 

Already on their lee she stands ; 
And, safe awhile from adverse gales, 

She hails the bark with outstretched hands. 

Brief the exchange of courteous vows ; 

Full brief inquiries after home; 
While hope with fear alternate throws 

Their lightning smile or sombre gloom. 



And she, — the lone one, pris'ner still ! 

O where is she, that high-souled maid ! 
Who, trusting friendship's doubtful thrill, 

Was by deceitful wiles betrayed? 

She stood unseen. For round her there, 
Each felt his own exclusive joy : 



118 POCAHONTAS. 

Unbound and loose her raven hair, 

Which seemed to claim her full employ. 

Ne'er bound by aught but wild-flower braid, 
It fell around her slender form, 

Like evening clouds of deepest shade, 

When touched by Phoebus' tintings warm. 

Soft was her eye of magic light, 

In alternations meek or wild : 
Its kindling radiance sad or bright, 

As best befitting Nature's child. 

The hue upon her downy cheek 
Was deeper than the damask rose : 

As oped her coral lips to speak, 

Woman's sweet, modest blush arose. 

But when the blood, less eloquent, 

A change of feeling caught, 
Her noble brow reposing bent 

With lines of deepest thought. 

Her beauteous form was motionless : 

Uncared for and alone 
She stood, like chiselled innocence, 

Or monument of stone ! 



THE CAPTIVITY. 119 

Not long in idle gaze she stood, 

Before her eye some object caught, 48 

Which, to the daughter of the wood, 

With life's best, dearest hopes seemed fraught. 

Oh hope ! bright star of woman's love ! 

When did thy silvery light expire ! 
Not all those starry orbs above 

May kindle such a changeless fire. 

Like the lone flower whose petals fade 

As doubtful of the sun's return, 
Is that sad heart which hope ne'er made 

Its favoured seat, its blissful throne ! 

The poet's inspiration tells 

Of fountains pure in every breast, 
W T hich with the sigh of memory swells 

Like the wild wave that knows no rest. 

Thus, gentle maid, that painful thrill, 

That hidden, unrequited flame 
Glows in thine eye, thy senses fill, 

And burns thy sunny cheek with shame. 



120 POCAHONTAS. 

'Tis this that sends that florid dye 

To thy soft cheek ; thy heart revealing 

Some secret thought, some mystic tie, 
Thy bosom has been years concealing ! 

That stately bark, by Fate impelled 
To trust the ocean's heaving wave, 

Full many a gallant spirit held, 
All fearless of a watery grave. 

Strangers to each ignoble thought, 

And born to guide some great emprise, 

With high chivalric feeling fraught, 
They seek renown 'neath milder skies. 

Among them one, whose early youth 
Had been to cankering care betrayed ; 

Yet proud of innate worth and truth, 

And buoyed with hope, the voyage had made. 

What was his name, and who his sire, 

Let the historic muse unfold. 
Enough that nought could e'er inspire 

His manly soul with thirst for gold. 



THE CAPTIVITY. 121 

Ambition may have lured him on, 

With El Dorado dreams of bliss, 
To seek a world so little known, 

And filled with scenes so fair as this. 

On the thronged deck the stranger stood, 

But distant from the mingled tide ; 
Seeming absorbed in pensive mood, 

Regardless of the world beside. 

His form was of the manliest mould, 

And full of courtly grace his air ; 
His auburn curls in ample fold 

Adorned a forehead high and fair. 

His eyes were of that doubtful hue 
That's mirrored in the sleeping wave, 

When autumn winds the dark leaves strew 
To find for aye a watery grave. 

Nor e'er did Phidian chisel trace, 

'Mid inspiration's raptured hour, 
A fairer specimen of grace, 

Of beauty and of mental power. 



11 



122 POCAHOiNTAS. 

I said his look was downward cast, 
As watchful of the sportive wave ; 

But when the pensive thought was past, 
To the glad scene that look he gave. 

It rested, in its wanderings wild, 
Half sportive, half in sympathy, 

On nature's noblest forest child 

Whose eye beamed nought but purity. 

Are there not looks and signs that bless 
The lonely spirit's wilderness? 
That to the fading hopes of life 
With transports every thrill is rife? 
The tell-tale eye that beams with love 
Kindled from mystic founts above? 

And though the soul has never known 

The idol placed upon the throne, 

5 Tis worshipped with as pure a zeal 

As life can in its morning feel. 

Bright hope ! sweet confidence of youth, 

When the fresh heart is warm with truth ! 

In haste ihe stranger youth essayed 
To cheer the sad and lonely maid 



THE CAPTIVITY. 123 

Who seemed each shaft of wit to bear, 
While pity claimed no kindred share ; 
Till 'mid the crowd the hero pressed, 
While thoughts tumultuous filled his breast. 

The modest mien, the gentle tone, 
The furtive glance, the rising sigh, 
Told woman's feeling all her own ; 
Her own the bond of sympathy. 

Recalled was every idle joy, 

Each whispered hope and cherished thought 
That filled her soul without alloy, 

When life's gay morn with bliss was fraught ; 

When cherished was young love the while, 

Cradled within her bosom's core, 
Since wrecked upon the lonely Isle 

And wandering on its sea-girt shore, 
She found the gem of priceless worth, 

Bright impress of a reas'ning mind ; 
And deemed it not a thing of earth, 

But to a higher sphere confined. 

And now, before the wond'ring maid, 
That verv form in life and licrht 



124 POCAHONTAS. 

Stood, as by magic skill portrayed, 
With brow as fair, and eye as bright ! 

Short courtesy is asked or given 
By one unused to civil rules. 

Affection is the gift of Heaven, 

While cold distrust is taught in schools. 



THE LANDING. 125 



III. 



THE LANDING. 



Like sister swans the vessels move 
O'er the still bosom of the tide ; 

Or like two coursers fondly rove 
'Mid summer pastures side by side ; 

Then, winding round with heedful sweep 
Through the deep channel far from shore ; 

Till past each danger of the deep, 

And wind and storm is feared no more. 

Here rest they in the ample cove, 

And lash their moorings fast to land ; 

While oft the ready pledge of love 
Is quickly passed from hand to hand. 

All gain the town with nimble feet 
To tell the tale of homefelt joys ; 

While severed kindred kindred greet, 
And mothers clasp their truant boys. 
11* 



126 POCAHONTAS. 

Who shrinks abashed with glowing brow 
From the rude gazers passing by, 

And meets, not sad and lonely now, 
The late-found seal of sympathy? 

Know ye the maid of noble mien, 
And eye of soft bewitching smile ? 

The forest's solitary Queen, 
The exile of the lonely Isle ? 

That Isle to memory's soul how dear ! 

How mingled with life's fears and joys ! 
Opening the fount of woman's tears 

Which brighter vision oft destroys. 

Within her simple garb concealed, 

Close to that heart whose throb was truth, 

But ne'er to mortal eye revealed, 
Lay shrined the image of a youth 

Whose impress with unchanging power 

Was graved forever on a heart, 
Which, like the fragrant eastern flower, 

Grew stronger, pierced with love's own dart, 



THE LANDING. 127 

In glad surprise the noble youth 

Marked the soft beamings of that eye ; 

The index of a soul of truth 
And all-enduring constancy. 

Yet the strange cause was still concealed ; 

Until by chance the guileless maid 
The secret of her soul revealed, 
-And its loved image once displayed. 

Then many a reminiscence came, 

Mingled with shadows of the past ; 
Till, quick as light from bursting flame, 

The problem strange was solved at last. 

Then list the tale, and doubt it not ; 

For from the forest-stores it came 
Of legends wild almost forgot, 

Yet claiming still a legend's name. 



When the last convoy from afar 
Sailed for Virginia's hostile strand, 

Content to join in savage war, 

Young Rolfe embraced the gallant band. 



128 POCAHONTAS. 

But ere the canvass was unfurled 
To waft them to the western world, 
A summons from his mother came 
That bade him fly the lists of fame. 
" The quiver of the mighty king 
" Whose arrow bears a secret sting, 
" Hovers," she said, " with doubtful strife 
" O'er a loved parent's valued life." 
A widow she, how could she bear 
The absence of her only heir ! 

His gentle sisters, graces three, 
Wept his resolve to trust the sea ; 
And all his loved ones ceaseless mourn 
Lest the frail bark should ne'er return. 

This missile of maternal love 
Checked in the midst his high resolve ; 
And used to duty's lenient sway, 
He hastened from the ship away, 
Lest, ere he reached his ancient home, 
The upreared dart might darkly come. 

No further could his memory go. 
Some treach'rous friend or secret foe 



THE LANDING. 129 

Purloined no doubt the gem of cost 
He deemed in haste mislaid or lost. 

His mother's anguish who may tell, 
For that prized image loved so well ? 
His father's gift of youthful pride 
When first he won his lovely bride : 
And well delineated there 
The semblance of his noble heir. 

The same in every manly grace ; 
The same in feature and in face : 
And well a mother's eye might find 
Resemblance in the nervous mind. 

This double relic lost fore'er, 

What could restrain the starting tear? 

And what restore the gem again 

But voy'ging o'er the western main ; 

If yet a hope remained to trace 

The embalmed image of a face 

Seven widowed winters ne'er forgot, 

Since mourned her solitary lot. 

Like war-horse at the trumpet's blast ; 

Like bridegroom when the plight has past ; 



130 POCAHONTAS. 

Like the young mother's golden joy- 
When first she clasps her cherub boy ; — 

Like straying moonbeams gently stealing 
Each dew-gem on the rose revealing, — 
To his glad soul that summons came 
Which bade him seek the lists of fame : 
And eke restore the valued prize 
To his loved mother's anxious eyes. 

Not long his darling hope deferred. 
The vessel launched ; the breezes stirred ; 
A fond farewell ; a struggling sigh ; 
A tear, ere yet the fount was dry, 
Or fate had twined a dearer tie. 

The sequel stands on history's page, 
A record true from age to age ; 49 
How valour, wisdom, grace and truth 
Won the dark maiden's spotless youth ; 
And how from heathen darkness turned, 
Her soul with Christian fervour burned. 50 

Mysterious Faith ! which, practised still, 
Conforms to right the rebel will ; 



THE LANDING. 131 

Directs on high the chastened soul, 
And brings it to the wished-for goal. 

What startling forms of truth appear, 

Confirming every doubtful thing ! 
The treasures of the new-born year; 

The daisy on the lap of spring ; 
The full-blown rose that summer yields ; 
The harvest of autumnal fields ; 
And e'en the leaf that winter seres, 
Buoys up our hopes, dispels our fears. 

The birds that carol in the grove 

In warblings wild of Nature's love, 

In her own language bear their part 

Of mute instruction to the heart ; 

Or told in whisperings undefined, 

Save to the moralizing mind ; — 

Which says, " Though dead we live again 

Beneath the quick'ning Spirit's reign." 

The spring shall burst dread winter's chain, 
And birds and flowers be free again. 
Though stript of leaves the trees remain, 
W r hen summer comes they'll bloom again. 



132 POCAHONTAS. 

If fetters bind the icy main, 

The sun shall set it free again, 

When from his wand'ring, devious track 

He comes with strength and gladness back. 

Yet there are joys that ne'er return, 
That bid the unbent spirit mourn. 
Feelings and hopes of life's young day, 
Rent with its spring-time all away ; 

Thoughts, tender thoughts, indulged in vain ; 
Passed never to return again ! 
Hopes of young being crushed forever ! 
May they be here again ? Ah ! never ! 

Yet there are joys for every age 
Impressed on memory's glowing page : 
They tell of pleasures past and o'er, 
But still retained in memory's store. 
Though faded, oft these visions seem 
Like mystic shadows in a dream. 

But turn we to our tale once more, 
From which we've wandered o'er and o'er 
To speak of other things, that ne'er 
Can sound too oft in human ear ; 



THE LANDING. 133 

Since with them we would bring the balm 
That heals the soul — religion's calm ; 
The holy precept of the wise ; 
The heart's best, purest sacrifice, 
Such as the Indian maiden chose 
To light her path, to soothe her woes, 
When at the cross she bowed her down, 
And gave her earthly hopes to win a heavenly 
crown. 



12 



134 POCAHONTAS. 



IV. 



POCAHONTAS BAPTISM. 



Wild was the scene, and hushed to calm repose ; 
From the dense crowd no thoughtless murmurs rose. 51 
The very winds seemed voiceless as they swept 
The trackless wastes where pristine beauty slept. 

The billowy wave forgot its angry swell ; 
Untuned the lullaby of Ocean's shell. 
No diapason deep from turret high, 
Nor choir nor organ lent their minstrelsy ; 

While lowly bending at the altar-stone, 

Alone in seeming, not in heart alone, 

The bright girl knelt, bathed in repentant tears — 

Connecting link between two hemispheres. 52 

Before the chancel, congregated there 

To mingle hopes of earth with Heaven's own prayer, 

Full many an ejxile from his distant home 

By av'rice or ambition lured, had come ; 



THE BAPTISM. 135 

The Knight, in blazonry of pomp and power ; 
The gentle Page, won from his lady's bower ; 
And Squires, whose gilded spurs in embryo seem 
The El Dorado of a blissful dream. 

Nor these alone the sacred walls enclose. 
Gift were their numbers by a host of foes ; 
For the swart denizens of forest shade 
With doubtful eye the busy scene surveyed, 
And 'mid these pageantries their stations held, 
Still as the sculptured monuments of eld ; 
Awless, nor wondering at the mystic sign, 53 
Though all unknown its origin divine : 

That seal of Faith, that signature of Heaven 

To a lost world in boundless mercy given ; 

The promised charter of the holiest love 

By angels sounded in Judea's grove, 

When Bethlehem's wonder dawned upon the sight, 

And glory's beaming star first heralded its light ! 

Then burst in solemn notes the anthem's swell, 
Returned by Echo from her wave-girt shell ; 
And rose in unison sublime and high, 
Responsive voices, filling earth and sky, 



136 POCAHONTAS. 

To Him who marks the vollied lightning's path ; 
O'erturning nations in His quenchless wrath ,* 
Or, in sweet mercy, attribute of Heaven, 
Stays with the Seraph's touch the flying levin. 

The holy type of Christian love was given ; 
The heart's deep vow was registered in heaven ; 
The prayer of faith in sweet accordance came ; 
Its incense mingling with the altar's flame. 

Sublime in youth and hope the aspirant stood, 
Nature's untutored child, late tenant of the wood ; 
Her dark hair floating on the summer wind, 
And loose her robe no art had taught to bind. 

But who is that with eye and brow serene, 
Of swarter visage than the forest Queen ? 
Does heavenly grace its holy light reveal, 
Or bears his bosom but the stoic's zeal ? 
Pride of his race where lofty courage stands ; 
The test of virtue in his own bright lands ? 

He marks with gaze intent and thoughtful eye, 
That bold hierophant, the legate of the sky ; 
Yet heeds he not those elements sublime, 
Symbols of hope that triumph over time. 



THE BAPTISM. 137 

The hallowed rites of Christian faith were done, 
Ere to the cloudless zenith rose the sun. 
For what remained did future time suffice 
To bind the bound in heaven by man's device ; 
For wisdom urged to seek a calmer hour, 
Free from the inroads of a hostile power ,* 
Since who may tell, when angry feuds increase, 
What charm may lull the wounded soul to peace ? 



12* 



133 POCAHONTAS. 



BOOK V. 



I. 



THE MARRIAGE AND DEPARTURE OF POCAHONTAS. 

That balmy eve, within a trellised bower, 

Rudely constructed on the sounding shore, 

Her plighted troth the forest maiden gave 

Ere sought the skiff that bore them o'er the wave 

To the dark home-bound ship, whose restless sway 

Rocked to the winds and waves, impatient of delay. 

For such the plan for Britain's Isle to sail 
With ready convoy, waiting for the gale ; 
Her pennons set ; hope glancing from each eye, 
As nearer bound the lately severed tie. 

Months had rolled round since Pocahontas o'er 
The billowy wave had reached her natal shore ; 
Leaving Japazaw and his treach'rous band 
On far Potomac's still unconquered strand. 



MARRIAGE AND DEPARTURE. 139 

The lovely Princess, freed from captive chain, 
Might rove her treasured woodlands o'er again, 
But that a link was added to its length 
That tethered more by gentleness than strength ; 
A silken cord it seemed, by love designed, 
Leaving the limbs less fettered than the mind. 

With this content she whiled the hours away, 
Waiting the promised chrism and bridal day ; 
In mental power not unprepared to show 
The fitting reasons of a double vow. 

Her aged father led a cheerless life, 

Sometimes in purchased peace, sometimes in strife, 

While she in Jamestown's rural fortress stayed, 

By adverse seasons for a time delayed ,* 

And fearful still to tempt the savage wild 

Though nurtured there, the forest's gentlest child. 

Doubtful of faith, e'en in her father's halls ; 
Since doubtful, nature's most resistless calls-; 
From scattered tribes, pursued for lust of gain 
From the blue mountains to the heaving main. 

Now withering Winter with the iron brow, 
Spread o'er the earth his panoply of snow. 



140 POCAHONTAS. 

And not till zephyrs break the icy charm, 
And genial summer came with breathings warm, 
Could the tall ships their moorings all unbind, 
And give their flowing canvass to the wind. 

That time arrived. The stately convoy stood, 

Reflected from the bosom of the flood, 

In all the pride of civilized control 

Which rising commerce gave from pole to pole. 

Then came the hour which claimed the twofold vow, 
The bright cross typed upon the wreathed brow 
Of bridal hope ; symbols of Faith and Love, 
United here on earth, and blending oft above. 

Short was the word that pledged triumphant love ; 
That vow, that claims its registry above. 
And low the cadence of that hymn of praise 
Whose hallowed incense rose, as rose its lays : 
And few the worshippers 'neath that pure cope 
Which emblems to the soul immortal hope. 

One native maiden waited the command 
Of the young Princess of Virginia's strand ; 
And that dark youth, the Page of Cedar Isle, 
Who wept her woes, and shared her sad exile, 



MARRIAGE AND DEPARTURE. 141 

With his loved bride, who owned the royal blood, 
And near the forest Queen majestically stood. 

Some others bent beside the rural shrine 

In adoration to the Power divine ; 

When at the altar knelt, with minds serene, 

The gallant Soldier and the dark-browed Queen. 

These, for the love they bore her guileless youth, 
Paid the high fealty of the warm heart's truth ; 
And with its homage satisfied, gave o'er 
Each vision bright that graced their natal shore. 

Those, with forebodings dread and brimful eyes, 
Bade holy angels guard the destinies 
Of one on whom had fallen the chrism of light 
With unction pure ; the youthful neophyte 
Of that fair clime where millions yet unborn 
Shall raise the choral hymn from eve till morn. 

When passed the word, that thrilling word — Farewell ! 
Whose Upas blight full many a heart may tell, 
They part. For stronger ties, ne'er urged in vain, 
Forbade the dangers of the heaving main. 



142 POCAHONTAS. 



II. 



AN UNLOOKED-FOR ADVENTURE. 

Close by a promontory's beetling side, 
Where the rude surge impels the flowing tide, 
A spacious cavern intercepts the spray, 
And bears the waves' wild murmurs far away. 

Within its ragged sides a fearful band 
Lay couched in ambush, waiting the command 
Of that high chief whose fiery wrath had ne'er 
Subdued or chastened been by shame or fear ; 
Though age had chilled his blood, and one might trace 
The deepened lines of thought in that dark face; 
And growing care, where once the saddened brow 
A pensive shadow cast, was darker, gloomier now. 

Within this cave, yclept the " Regicide's," 
With mingled feelings Powhatan abides 
One weary day of doubts and mental strife. 
Too often these the records of a life, 
When passion rages with supreme control, 
Quenching the light of reason in the soul. 



AN ADVENTURE. 143 

Heedless of peril from the rising flood ; 

Prepared to bathe the dewy sands with blood ; 

To dictate terms of peace to parting foe, 

Ere to the home-bound fleet he bade them go, 

Th' impatient Sachem and his savage bands 

Dare the unequal fight with impious hands, — 

Deeming a bloody bier more fitting place 

For the high daughter of a kingly race, 

Than fly the heritage by birth her own, 

And mate unequally without a crown, 

Though her espoused were England's noblest son. 

Long had the Indian Princess sought to gain 
Her Father's confidence, but sought in vain. 
Her embassies gained nought but scorn or wrath, 
Implying danger 'mid the forest path. 

Nursing his rage, the aged Sagamore 
Refused the proffered homage o'er and o'er ; 
And arrogantly deemed that Nature's fire 
At will might burn, or at one breath expire ; 
Or that his harshness to the gentle dame 
A deeper love and reverence might claim. 

Resolving still to gain by hostile laws, 

A child estranged by more than common cause, 



144 POCAHONTAS. 

He sought at morning's dawn that rugged cave, 
Secured by ebb tide from the rising wave. 

Not late in evening's gloom the bridal train 
In musing mood retraced their steps again 
To join the waiting barge, which idly lay 
Concealed within the cove, impatient of delay ; 

When from the yawning gulf a legion rose 
Prepared as if to meet a host of foes ! 
Dire was the yell that sounded wildly o'er, 
Awaking echo on the adverse shore ! 
The very Isle possessed by Demons seems, 
Or the dark phantasies of fevered dreams ! 

One shriek of horror Pocahontas gave ! 
One prayer to heaven her loved lord to save ! 
Then knelt in suppliant posture to her sire, 
To stay his arm and quench his vengeful ire. 

Timely the prayer ; — a club, descending low 
In the firm grasp of Opekankano, 
Was stayed at once by Powhatan's command, 
Then fell all guiltless on the yielding sand ; 
Else had the blood of gallant Rolfe repaid 
His warm devotion to the dark-eyed maid ! 



AN ADVENTURE. 145 

But love and pity touched her father's breast, 
Whose arms her helpless infancy caressed ; 
And changed that mood of savage vengeance wild 
To filial feelings soft for Ila's child. 

Then oft the Sachem urged that child in vain 
To stay her wanderings o'er the stormy main ; 
Safe at his court forever to reside, 
And for paternal love resign all else beside : 
In some wild dell her constant love to prove, 
And dwell contented with the man she loved. 

But her new duties, fitly understood, 
Doubting her present power of doing good, 
She stood unmoved, resisting every lure, 
But what might mutual benefit insure. 

Firm as a rock of adamantine force, 
Yet gentle as the winding streamlet's course,- 
With flowing tears she parried every art ; 
Yet prayed her sire in love and peace to part. 

The savage monarch felt a parent's woe 
In bitter anguish, as he bade them go 
Where duty called — far o'er the western sea : 

13 



146 POCAHONTAS. 

Again to meet, when from invaders free, 

His own bright empire disenthralled should be. 

One brawny arm around his weeping child 
In love reposed, whilst with an accent wild 
He asked of Him who rules below, above, 
That mighty Spirit, whose first law is love, 
To bless with ceaseless good or chastened ire, 
The Christian daughter of a heathen sire ! 
And bring her safely o'er the bounding main 
To bless his aged eyes and peaceful reign, 
Ere to that land of shadows he depart, 
Where roams the elk unmindful of the dart ; 54 
Where the dark wolf and bear shall prowl in vain, 
Those fell marauders of the wood and plain ; 
Where the meek hare its timid starts forego, 
Nor fear in every bush a lurking foe. 

Then to their forest homes the savage host 
In peace retired, far from the billowy coast. 



EMBARCATION AND VOYAGE. 147 



III. 
THE EMBARCATION AND VOYAGE. 

The morning dawned as gay, as pure, as bright 
As when on being's youth it poured its light, 
Waking from rosy rest that happy pair 
Who dwelt in tranquil Eden's garden fair ; 
When the loud chorus of the spheres began 
To teach their symphonies to perfect man, 
Ere yet the seal of crime had stamped his brow, 
Anticipating Cain's dark fate below ; 
Or the loud fiat of the law was hurled 
Which wrapped in ruin dire a mighty world ! 

The stately ship unmoored, her bright keel gave 
To meet the foam and plough the glassy wave. 
Fresh was the breeze that bade the canvass flow, 
Yet soft the murmuring wave that swept below. 

Buoyed was each spirit with the hope of rest, 
That halcyon hope which lurks in every breast, 



148 POCAHONTAS. 

Safe from the perils of the deep to lie ; 
Safe from the storms that threaten earth and sky ; 
Safe from the hurricanes of moral woe ; 
And safe from every care that waits below. 
In safety too when life's dark voyage is o'er, 
From dangers freed, to find a blissful shore 
Where the full chalice may be pledged in joy, 
Ere the rude hand its promised sweets destroy, 
Mixing each dark ingredient of his fate, 
Remorseless anger or relentless hate, 
With all the catalogue of woes which bear 
Too strict analogy with being's heir ! 

As the bark swept along in strength and pride, 
The graceful consort sailing at her side, 
Ere yet the wrathful tempest's dreaded force 
Drove her far off the known but devious course, 
The Christian matron, erst the forest maid, 
In simplest costume of the times arrayed, 
Sat on the deck, and gazed with wondering eyes 
At the new forms of Nature's mysteries : 
The distant sea ; the almost cloudless sky ; 
The playful surge that swept all gently by ; 
The mighty fabric as she towered along ; 
And the shrill echo of the sea-bird's song. 



EMBARCATION AND VOYAGE. 149 

Then changed her mood, and contemplation's key 

Unlocked the secret stores of memory. 

Full many a gem of thought I ween was there, 

From hope's seraphic touch to dark despair; 

Since both had alternated in a life 

Chequered with good, yet oft with evil rife. 

The gilded halo of enraptured youth, 
When the pure bosom holds the lamp of truth, 
But turns with all the horrors of despair 
From her bright mirror, as reflected there 
The evil passions of the soul arise 
Discordant, dread, a Moloch sacrifice ! 

Her mother's image 'mid these visions came ; 
The same meek smile ; that gentle look the same 
As when amid th' uncultivated wild 
She taught from Nature's book her docile child. 
In quick succession each remembrance grew, 
That lent its bliss when life itself was new : 
And last, not least, the little urchin's wile 
That w T on her maiden heart on Cedar Isle. 

All these and more the unpractised girl displays 
To the fond, trusted partner of her days ; 



13* 



150 POCAHONTAS. 

And held aloft that talisman of love, 

Blessing the Isle, the beach, the shady grove ; 

But most of all the partner of her woes, 

The youthful Page, through whom her bliss arose. 

He, as his station called, was at her side, 
The kind attendant of the youthful bride, 
Prompt to obey the still unwhispered thought, 
By art or instinct from her glances caught. 

Full many a joyful day upon the wave, 
Though long the voyage, sweet contentment gave. 
But when did mortal joys quite smoothly run 
Since in the glowing ether blazed the sun, 
Paling with lustre bright each twinkling star 
That holds its lamp to other worlds afar ? 

One lurid morn, ere yet the perfect day 
Rose from the east in beautiful array, 
The low, shrill whistle of the watchman given 
Portends a coming storm. The angry heaven 
Lowered like a pall ; while elemental wrath 
Poured wildly on before the vessel's path. 

The word was given to make all things secure, 
And bide with firmness what they must endure ,* 



EMBARCATION AND VOYAGE. 151 

Whilst all prepared to meet their awful doom, 
To sink untimely to a watery tomb ! 

Our youthful Heroine undismayed arose 
From the soil couch which seemed to court repose, 
And sought with high resolve the stirring scene, 
With steadfast faith and with a brow serene. 

Supported by the arm of him she loved, 
With slow, majestic, Queenly step she moved ; 
Yet more she trusted in a higher Power 
Who lists the call of fear in danger's hour. 

The intrepid girl still gazed upon the rack 

Of driving clouds by adverse winds thrown back ; 

Encouraging her timid train, she stood 

Like a young Naiad rising from the flood. 

Wild was the scene, impressive and sublime, 
Seeming to threat the bounds of ancient time ; 
And like the Angel of Destruction come 
To speak amid the storm Earth's closing doom. 

E'en like a shrivelled scroll the angry heaven 
Rolled off its murky clouds by tempests riven ; 



152 POCAHONTAS. 

While other volumes in succession rise, 
Spreading a midnight darkness o'er the skies, 
Lit but at intervals by fearful flash 
Of vollied lightnings 'mid the thunder's crash ! 

Dread was the scene where cloud o'er cloud arose 

Like waving banners of contending foes ! 

The lightning's glare, with bursting bolt on high, 

Came oft horrific from the lurid sky ; 

Seeming like mighty armies battling bold, 

While the deep ordnance higher victories told. 

The stormy petrel soared on tireless wing 

In mad gyrations through the boundless waste. 

The stubborn spars like yielding branches spring ; 
And o'er old Ocean's brow a solemn gloom was cast. 

On the tall vessel's side the Princess stood 
Watching the clouds like garments rolled in blood ; 
While close and closer to his manly breast 
His fearless bride the dauntless soldier pressed ; 
Nor thought of danger from the bursting levin, 
As sought his chastened soul the help of Heaven. 

When spent the fury of that stormy day, 

The leaden clouds by winds were swept away ; 



EMBARCATION AND VOYAGE. 153 

The heaving billows ceased their angry swell, 
Though moaned at intervals the ocean's shell. 
The joyous sun from high meridian poured, 
And nature seemed to sudden bliss restored. 

The ship careering 'fore a prosperous gale, 
Spread high the torn and saturated sail ; 
And like an arrow from the polished yew, 
On to her destined port resistless flew. 

Short was the voyage, since now the tempest's sway 
Urged her no more from the directest way ; 
Till full of hope, the toiling seamen's eyes 
Saw England's chalky cliffs before them rise. 

Another dawn beheld them safely moored 
With chain and cable to the wharf secured ; 
When from her hollow sides the happy throng 
Passed from the ship to safer homes along. 



High throbbed the bosom of the forest Queen, 
While shone her brow with confidence serene, 
As from the vessel's dark and beetling side 
She passed with him, her loved and only guide, 



154 POCAHONTAS. 

In a strange land where her own swarthy race 
Had ne'er before found home or resting-place ; 
Though now those loved companions of her youth, 
Endeared by toils, by sympathies and truth, 
Found a sure refuge from their country's strife 
Till fate should end her own now peaceful life. 

Her grateful soul uplift to bounteous Heaven 
For the late blessings in its mercy given, 
She seemed like him, the patriarch of eld, 
When stayed the flood that young Creation veiled, 
And on the solid ground, from dangers free, 
Adored that Power who calms the raging sea ; 
To its own haven sends the wave-tossed bark, 
Safe with its inmates, like the Prophet's ark ; 
The dove of peace still hovering o'er its prow, 
To soothe the chastened soul that wept below. 

Like him the altar her meek bosom bore, 

And consecrate upon a foreign shore ; 

Her heart was filled with hope ; her forehead sealed 

With that best sign by Deity revealed. 

Accomplished is my task, since legends none 
From the vast wreck has ever yet been won 



EMBARCATION AND VOYAGE. 155 

Of all the wondrous chances that befell 

The Indian Princess on a foreign shore. 
Of these the immortal records proudly tell, 

Nor can the willing muse aspire to more. 
Enough to point to the historic page 
Where the bold impress stands for every age. 55 



156 POCAHONTAS. 



IV. 

THE CONCLUSION. 

Years have rolled down their mighty streams ; 

Yet Time, that aged watchman, seems 

As tireless on his rapid wing 

As when Creation's blissful spring 

First heralded his way. 
Keen is his scythe, and bare his brow, 
Whitened by many a winter's snow, 

And many a weary day. 

But what the changes that befell 

The things of earth : ah ! who may tell ? 

Their hope, their joy, their grief! 
Of human woe, of human weal, 
Of careless hearts and souls of zeal, 

Sered like the autumn leaf! 

Of young affections prone to trust 
Till mingled with their parent dust ! 



CONCLUSION. 157 

Of broken hearts, and broken vows, 
Fleeting and false as tropic snows 

Which vanish in an hour ! 
But what, alas ! is beings' sway ? 
Still is their doom, " passing away," 

And changeful still their power ! 

On a tall rock by tempests riven 
Or by the fiery bolt of heaven, 
Where Ocean in its angry sway 
Murmured its wailings night and day, 

A lonely Indian sat ; 
Bare was his aged brow, save where 
The thin dark spires of raven hair, 
Or plume of towering eagle rose 
To mock his fate and eke his woes ; — 

Poor wanderer of fate ! 

To the bright west he turned his eyes, 
Where, glowing with resplendent dyes, 
And sinking 'neath the evening skies, 
Gave promise sure again to rise, 

The glorious orb of day, — ■ 
A type of man, — his pride and power, — 
Death his repose, the grave his dower ; 
14 



158 POCAHONTAS. 

But promised still a fairer dawn, 
The coming resurrection morn, 

When all have passed away. 
And then shall come at trumpet's blast 
The old, the young, the first, the last, 

In mystical array ! 

On that high Rock whose awful form 
Defies the lightning and the storm 

O be my refuge sure: 
Safe from the sevenfold tempest's wrath ; 
Safe from the dark avenger's path ; 

In Christian faith secure. 

But wandering, moralizing still, 
Desiring good, yet fearing ill, 

The mind unpractised flies 
From worldly cares and worldly views, 
And oft some darkling thought pursues, 

Deep wrapt in mysteries. 



Yet let me pause before I trace 
The sunken cheek, the care-worn face 
Of that lone Indian man, 



CONCLUSION. 159 

Whose days were " like a tale that's told ;" 
Though seeming weary, wan and old, 
His being scarce a span ! 

The sun had passed the zenith far, 

To westward sped his tireless way ; 
Nor gleamed a single distant star 

Upon the closing eye of day, 
When on that promontory's steep 
The poor wayfarer came to weep. 

He came far o'er the ocean wave 
To seek at home a kindred grave ; 
But where that home none live to tell. 
The forest where he loved to dwell ; 
The friends of childhood, loved so well ; 

May he behold them ? Never ! 
Crushed were his hopes of earth ; but Heaven 
Had to his soul a promise given, 
That when life's fleeting hour was past, 
A peaceful haven won at last, 

Joy would be his forever. 

How many days of added hope 
Beneath the clear and starry scope ; 



160 POCAHONTAS. 

How many suns had sunk to rest, 
Gilding the ocean's wavy crest, 

Fulfilling each his plan, 
Since he to other climes had been ; 
The world in every form had seen ; 
Yet came this truth of truths, I ween, 

Repose is not for man. 

He with the gentle Queen to roam, 

Far o'er the broad Atlantic sailed ; 
Nor sought again his own wild home, 
Till many a withering thought had come, 
And every hope had failed ! 

That forest Queen, ah! where was she? 

And where the choice his own heart gave ? 
And that young maiden wild and free 

Who passed fore'er the stormy wave ? 

Long, long within their narrow graves, 
Where earthly ills no more molest ; 

Where the tall grass in silence waves 
Unheeded o'er each peaceful breast, 

They'd slept ; while nothing now remained 
His dreary pilgrimage to cheer, 



CONCLUSION. 161 

But one fond hope. One being claimed 
Devotion's trust, devotion's tear ! 

This treasure of his withered heart, 

This star upon life's stormy sea, 
That claimed of every thought a part — 

In every sigh a sympathy, 

Was the fair boy, whose waitings wild 
His kindred tribes had never heard ; 

The noble Pocahontas' child ; 

The forest Monarch's unfledged bird ! 

And he, that mighty monarch, lay 

Like her beneath the grassy sod : 
His proudest chieftains far away, 

The western regions darkly trod. 

And e'en the lonely wand'rer's race 

Had passed to lands he knew not where ! 

Nor could his eye one vestige trace 

Of their loved homes once bright and fair ! 

Changed was each scene his boyhood knew ; 
Each spot he traversed as a man ; 
14* 



162 POCAHONTAS. 

His fav'rite walk, where wild flowers grew, 
Usurped by civilization's plan. 

E'en on the buoyant wave was seen 
The free white sails of industry, 

Where late the savage boats had been 
Careering on in revelry. 



But who this Pilgrim of the wild ; 

Dark relic of another age ? 
'Twas the bright youth of Cedar Isle ; 

Matoa's honoured, trusted Page ! 

To distant climes he journeyed far, 
Led by his fealty, zeal and truth ; 

But dimmed was now each radiant star 
That lighted up his ardent youth. 

His country claimed one sad farewell ! 

His throneless prince one added sigh ! 
His own dark fate no legends tell 

But this : " He wandered here to die !" 

For on that beetling rock he stayed, 
His eyes o'er aged ocean cast ; 



CONCLUSION. 163 

And, as the sun's bright disk delayed 
To sink 'neath hues his brightness made, 

Brief glance he gave : it was his last, 

Ere to the forest's gloom he passed. 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



That the continent of America was discovered long 
before the fourteenth century, and some colonies planted 
therein, there can be no doubt ; although the accounts 
given by Malgro and Brandon are as wild and chi- 
merical as any Eastern fable, or the stories related by 
Homer and Hesiod, whose fertile imaginations peopled 
the earth with heroes and demi-gods who were not even 
denied social intercourse with the superior deities of 
Olympus. 

" These writers," says Smith, " are unworthy the 
confidence reposed in historians who at all times ob- 
serve a degree of truth which can alone entitle them 
to credit." And when summing up the accredited evi- 
dence on this subject at the period his history was 
written, — about the year 1620 — he remarks that " those 
persons who say they were in North America one thou- 
sand years ago, is much the same as the visit of the 
Friar of Lynn, that by his black art went to the North 
Pole in the year 1360." — Smith's History of Virginia. 

The chronicles of Wales report that Madok, son to 
Owen Quinteth, Prince of that country, seeing his two 



168 NOTES. 

brothers debating who should inherit the kingdom of 
their father, prepared several ships with men and muni- 
tion, and left his country in search of adventures by sea. 
Leaving Ireland on the north, he sailed west until he 
came to a land unknown. 

Returning home and relating what a pleasant and 
fruitful country he had found, and setting forth the 
poverty of his own land, for which his kindred mur- 
dered one another, he procured other ships, and pre- 
vailing on many men and women to accompany him, 
he proceeded to this new land, where he arrived in 
1170. Here he left these people and returned for more. 
Where this place was, no history can show ; but it is 
generally believed to be the American continent. 

u The Spaniards say that Hanno, Prince of Carthage, 
was the first who arrived in the western hemisphere ;" 
and in Delafield's Antiquities of America, he certainly 
sanctions the belief that this country was peopled by 
emigrants from Asia or Africa, and perhaps both. 

" Sir Martin Frobisher was sent in the year 1576, by 
our most gracious Queen, Elizabeth, to search for a 
Northwestern Passage and Meta Incognita ;" and for his 
wonderful successes was knighted and otherwise well 
rewarded. 

" John Cabot was employed by King Henry VII., and 
found this continent before Columbus, in 1497." 

" In 1535, Captain Amidas was sent to discover the 
coast of Florida." — Smith's Hist, of Virginia. 

In his third volume of English voyages, Mr. Hackluit 
mentions large plantations settled in this country in the 
sixteenth century. 



NOTES. 169 

Sir Walter Raleigh visited Virginia in 1583, planted 
a colony in a part of it now called North Carolina, and 
named the whole country between the 34th and 45th 
degrees of north latitude Virginia, in honour of the 
virgin Queen, Elizabeth. This country was before 
called Wingandocoa. This gentleman, remarking on 
the dress and manners of the natives, says, " their 
women were modest and clothed with decency. The 
chieftains and their wives have a band of white coral on 
their foreheads, and in their ears they wear bracelets 
and other ornaments, made of pearl, very long, and of 
the bigness of great peas. From them we obtained 
strings of white and red coral and strings of pearls. 
Nothing could exceed the kindness of these people." — 
Sir Walter RaleigKs Voyages. 

" In 1586," says Smith, " Sir Walter returned to look 
after the colony. Not finding any traces of it, after a 
diligent search he returned to England. Not many 
days after his departure, Sir Richard Grenville, with 
three ships well appointed, arrived there, who, not find- 
ing the ship according to his expectations, and hearing 
no news of the colony left there a few years before, 
finding the place abandoned, and unwilling to lose so 
valuable a possession, landed fifty men on the island o/ 
Roanoke with provisions for two years." 

"In the year 1606, Captain Smith, Bartholomew 
Gosnell, and many others, after a tedious voyage, en- 
tered the river of Powhatan ; and after establishing 
themselves on the island of Jamestown, some fifty miles 
from its mouth, left the colony; and twenty of the men 
commanded by Captain Smith, a man renowned for his 

15 



170 NOTES. 

bravery and adventurous spirit, ascended the river as 
far as the falls, where the city of Richmond now stands. 
In this expedition they visited Powhatan, the principal 
Chief or Emperor of this country. His town, situated 
pleasantly on a hill, consisted of twelve houses ; in front 
of which were three little islets, a short distance from 
the spot, but below where Richmond now stands." — (See 
Burk's History of Virginia, Smith's do. and others, on 
this highly interesting subject.) 

The early scenes of this Poem are laid in and about 
this place ; and the time of its enactment commences 
some thirteen years prior to the time of the discovery 
above spoken of. 



Note 1, page 16. 

The Wife. 

As it may be expected, there is much of imaginary 
matter mingled with historical truth in this legend ; the 
early scenes of which are chiefly placed near the present 
location of the city of Richmond, below the falls of her 
beautiful and scenic river. 

' The residence of Powhatan, the mighty Emperor of 
that country, whose land-marks are lost in the lapse of 
ages, doubtless lay in this whereabout; and the sur- 
rounding country, as well as the broad bosom of Powha- 
tan, now James River, were frequented by the dramatis 
pcrsonce of these pages. 



NOTES. 171 

The young wife of the rude monarch is supposed to 
have been about two years a resident at his sylvan court 
at the opening of the Poem ; alternately enjoying the 
confidence and enduring the neglect of the forest king. 
And although these Books contain much of speculation, 
such as abounds in all stories that are founded on fact, 
yet there is a large portion of the same entirely con- 
sistent with history. The very common surmise that 
the powerful Chieftain of a conquering nation should 
select for himself a bride from another tribe is too con- 
sistent with common usage to cavil at ; nor is it quite 
beyond the pale of probability, that the Northmen, who 
some centuries before planted a colony north of the 
30th degree of latitude, should have left a remnant of 
their stock ; although history makes little mention of it. 
(For researches on this subject, see additional notes in 
the subsequent part of this book.) And, moreover, what 
would constitute the beauty of a story, either in prose or 
verse, were the writer tied down to plain matters of fact, 
and denied the privilege of ranging uncontrolled in the 
regions of fancy ? 



I 

Note 2, page 16. 

Roamed slie the forest track 
With him, her Monarch lord ? 

Among all savage nations it is the custom of the 
women to do all menial services for the lords of the ere- 



172 NOTES. 

ation; nor are they to be performed grudgingly with 
impunity. From time immemorial, the degrees of civi- 
lization have been tested by the extent of servitude 
assigned to the weaker sex, and the deference paid 
them. 



Note 3, page 16. 

Bright coral of the ivaves 
In treasured heaps that lay. 

Pearls and coral, though found in stinted measure, 
formed the most conspicuous ornaments for the chief- 
tains and their families. Smith, in his quaint style, ob- 
serves, that " some persons were employed to seeke out 
beds of oisters for pearle. Some seede pearles they 
found ; but out of one little shell above all the rest, they 
got one hundred and twenty small pearles, but some- 
what defective in colour." 

" After their intercourse with the natives, they came 
in great numbers, bringing materials for dyeing, and 
numberless strings of coral and pearls, both red and 
white, which they had from the mouths of their rivers, 
and all about. But these were for ornaments for their 
chief women and their Werowances." — Stith. 



NOTES. 173 

Note 4, page 18. 

Though oft ''mid lid's dreams, 

Ila, the mother of our Heroine, is, of course, indebted 
to fancy for her name, for the lack of history's records 
on the subject. The tradition, however, that she was of 
Runic origin, will fully justify the use of a name so 
seemingly classical, un-Indian as it is. (See Note 11.) 



Note 5, page 19. 

Her oicn loved tribe, in ivealth and power 
Stretched from fair Susquehanna's tide. 

" The Susquahannoks," says Smith, " were a great 
nation, dwelling on the heads of the chief rivers that 
empty into the Bay. They were little known to the 
southern tribes. They lived in palisadoed towns ; and 
on his visiting them they showed him many things both 
for use and ornament, of much superior workmanship to 
those the Powhatans owned : among the rest, strings of 
coral and copper beads, with hatchets and such like 
made of iron. These things, they said, were obtained 
by their fathers, a long time back, from some persons 
the colour of ourselves, and wearing clothes not like 
skins." 

15* 



174 NOTES. 

Note 6, page 20. 

Wingina* s monarch, cold and shy. 

Wingina was rather the name of the king than of the 
country, although it is sometimes thus called by Hecke- 
welder and Stith. " Upon the return of Amidas and 
Barlow," says the latter historian, " from the country of 
Wingina, their Queen, Elizabeth, from the wonderful 
accounts of its fruitfulness, changed that name to Vir- 
ginia, out of respect to herself, she being called the 
Virgin Queen ; and also because the country seemed to 
retain the virgin purity and plenty of the first creation, 
and the people their primitive innocency of life and 
manners." The poet, Waller, refers to this country in 
the following stanza, which gives some idea of the great 
value set on the new discoveries : 

" So sweet the air, so moderate the clime, 
" None sickly lives, nor dies before his time. 
" Heaven sure has kept that spot of earth uncursed 
"To show how all things were created first." 



Note 7, page 20. 

Of hunting-grounds far, far away, 
Where scathless grazed the herds by day. 

" The Indians of the Far West still deem it a privilege 
beyond any other, to discover some tract of ground un- 



NOTES. 175 

known to the hunter, where the wild deer and buffalo 
still range unmolested." — Catlin mi the Western Tribes. 
Doubtless the ancient natives, who were equally wild 
and devoted to hunting, considered a state of things like 
this, the acme of happiness. 



Note 8, page 21. 
Where the bold stream divides. 

But a few furlongs from Powhatan, the once regal 
home of the savage monarch, there is a beautiful island 
in the river, that divides the stream almost equally. 
This is plainly seen from the eminence above. 



Note 9, page 21. 

Tinged ivith the surmeKs glossy dye. 

This is an Oriental image ; the surmeh being used 
by the Persian ladies to give a beautiful lustre and 
deeper jet to their eyebrows and eyelashes. The leaves 
of the henna plant (Laivsonia Alba) afford a beautiful 
reddish yellow dye, used to tint the palms of the hands 
and tips of the fingers. 



176 JNOTES. 



Note 10, page 22. 

For still the haughty monarch bore him on 
In rude and unchecked merriment the while. 

It is a well known fact that most savages are capri- 
cious in the extreme, as it regards the object who had 
claimed their versatile affection, and above all the ties 
of a connubial kind ; often neglecting the one who has 
hitherto been the most highly favoured, and often sup- 
planting, by a newer tie, the promised homage of life. 
This especially obtains among them when there is no 
progeny to cement their union. 



Note 11, page 26. 

Tradition said, that, many a moon bygone, 
So long that e'en tradition's self runs wild. 

Here also we must apologize for departing from the 
beaten track, and for the introduction of hyperbole ; a 
privilege often granted in such cases, of introducing 
foreign matter in aid of domestic difficulties : a bad pre- 
cedent in the main, but one sometimes resorted to. 

A previous note adverts to some remarkable incidents 
recorded by Captain Smith concerning the Susquehanna 
tribe. He further remarks : " We saw a lusty man, a 
savage, almost white, with curling hair, and a thick, 



NOTES. 177 

black, bushy beard ; and as the savages seldom have 
any beard at all, we were ready to believe, strange as it 
was, that he was the descendant of some European, He 
was not a little proud of his appearance when he found 
that he resembled some of us ; and intimated, as well as 
he could, that he was another countryman like unto us ; 
but the interpreter told us that many of his kindred were 
thus, yet not so much like him as like themselves." 

Having made some allusion to the Norse or North- 
men, it may not be unacceptable to the reader to give 
an extract or two from that interesting history by Mr. 
Wheaton, although it may not serve to illustrate the 
subject in question, or entirely set aside the idea that 
our theory is a doubtful one at least, and brought from 
far back eld ; a period so remote as scarcely to be con- 
sidered as a feasible plan. And yet what is a tale with- 
out some speculations of fancy woven into its tissue, 
especially when the waves of oblivion have for ages 
rolled over the sublimest records ! 

" These adventurous spirits seem to have been com- 
pounded of Danes and Norwegians, who together, under 
their chieftain, Erick the Red, a famous northern Earl, 
first planted a colony in Iceland; and after voyaging 
about in search of more territory, crossed the ocean to 
the American continent. Here, after repeated failures, 
they established themselves, but were afterwards driven 
off by the natives. 

" For more than a century from the first settlement in 
America, the boldest spirits of these hyperborean regions 
associated themselves together, choosing some prominent 
character for their director. Thus they visited distant 



178 NOTES. 

lands, planting colonies in Greenland and other places. 
That the Norwegians knew something of the new world 
is w T ell authenticated, the fact appearing on the Icelandic 
records." 

In making researches on this interesting subject, we 
find the following notice from Malte Brun, whose geo- 
graphical and historical knowledge is wonderfully cor- 
rect. " The colony established on the western con- 
tinent probably perished in the same manner with the 
ancient establishment on Greenland ; yet some traces of 
its existence may be found in the relations of the Jesuit 
missionaries in Canada, who a long time ago had an 
account of a distinct tribe of people found in the district 
of Gaspe, at the mouth of the River St. Lawrence, who, 
they said, preserved among themselves a certain degree 
of civilization, and a mixed religion of their own. Their 
traditions go to prove that their forefathers worshipped 
the sun, or some unseen deity which that luminary re- 
presented ; observed the position of the stars, possessing 
more knowledge than the neighbouring tribes, and dif- 
fering from them in language, colour and improvements : 
their implements of domestic use being rudely made of 
metal." 

" At a later day, when the missionaries came among 
them, their language was corrupted, but they showed the 
symbol of the cross, which they said a venerable person 
had taught them to venerate, and with which he cured 
a terrible epidemic among them." — (See Dissertations 
on the Discovery of America by the Scandinavians. 
By J. H. Shrouder.) 

We have one more transcript of high authority upon 



NOTES. 179 

this interesting subject ; but speculations of such a na- 
ture, however amusing, but increase the darkness that 
broods over this early era. 

In Mr. Depping's valuable work on the maritime ex- 
peditions of the Norwegians, we have the following ac- 
count. " There was formerly (say the ancient sages of 
Norway) a man named Herjolf, who was descended 
from Ingolf, the first settler of Iceland. This man 
navigated from one country to another with his son 
and a small crew, and generally spent his winters in 
Norway. It happened once on a time that they were 
separated, the father and son ; and Bjarne sought his 
father in Norway. There he learned he had gone to 
the newly discovered country of Greenland. Bjarne 
resolved to find him, wherever he might be; and in 
1001 set sail for Greenland, directing himself by the 
stars. For some time he was carried by the winds to 
the west, when arose a violent wind from the north, 
driving him southward for many days, where he saw a 
flat country, covered with wood and watered by many 
rivers, the temperature of which was very fine and the 
land both fruitful and flowery. He afterwards conti- 
nued his voyage northeast, arrived at Greenland, where 
he found his father established and in possession of land 
on a large bay, which he called HerjolPs bay, in honour 
of his son's enterprise. This bay is still called after its 
ancient name, and Herjolf is supposed to have been the 
first discoverer of North America." — (See Turner's His- 
tory of the Anglo-Saxons, History of the North Men, 
and many other interesting works, where amusing ac- 
counts of a similar nature are recounted.) 



180 NOTES. 

These things, if they throw no light upon the sombre 
tints enshrouding other days, yet serve to amuse ; and 
however wild and romantic they may seem, do not, as 
did the propagator of the Koran, exact unconditional 
belief at the point of the sabre. 



Note 12, page 29. 

Loud echoes through the forest mazes ring, 
And rising bonfires pale the waning moon. 

" There was much rejoicing among the savages," 
says Captain Smith, " whenever a child was born to 
their Chiefs." 



Note 13, page 35. 

Ere yet full womanhood Matoa knew. 

Matoaka was the name by which she was generally 
known to her tribe ; but by the familiar name of Poca- 
hontas she was designated among the English. Snow- 
Feather, according to the legend, was a favourite name 
by which she was called by her friends, as was also her 
mother ; both being represented as remarkably graceful 
and swift of foot. 



NOTES. 181 



Note 14, page 39. 

May not imagination's subtile powers 
Lend to the Indian girl a half-strung lyre ? 

Such interpolations are of too common occurrence to 
need an apology, wild as it may seem ; or we might 
find numberless instances to stand as precedents for us. 
Though many extraordinary legends are preserved in a 
land where the noble and daring deeds of Pocahontas 
were effected, we find nothing that may establish her 
claim to music or poetry, whether vocal or instrumental. 



Note 15, page 45. 

In adoration, too, to tune the shell 

In mystic numbers, to that Foiver above 

Who throws o'er all his works so soft a spell, 
Cradling creation in his boundless love ? 

We do not design anticipating the conversion of Poca- 
hontas ; yet it cannot be denied by any one versed in 
these matters, that the Indians, at an early date, had 
some vague idea of a Supreme Being. Master Herriot, 
an early settler, in his details of the manners, customs, 
religion, etc. of the aborigines, remarks that " they con- 
sidered the diseases they suffered, an eclipse of the sun 
or moon, or the appearance of a comet, to be the espe- 
cial work of the Great Spirit, in behalf of the English." 

16 



182 NOTES. 



Note 16, page 52. 

Something they told of antiquarian lore, 
But now forgot or changed by lapse of time, 

Of palaces and halls on foreign shore, 

Built by migrators from dark Afrits clime. 

There is much of the spirit of research abroad, and 
some recent discoveries in the New World tend to the 
conviction that many years before the colonization of 
any portion of it by Europeans, it had been visited by 
another race, differing materially in physical powers and 
mental energies from the Indians found in the southern 
latitudes by Cortez, Balboa, De Nunez, or any other 
discoverers whose accounts are transmitted to posterity. 
For these learned and interesting details, see Delafield's 
American Antiquities, lately published in one folio volume, 
containing engravings of a singular nature, together with 
a map of hieroglyphic representations, copied from the 
pillars, etc., of an immense ruin in Mexico, and forming 
a succession of mute history for centuries past. These 
wonderful illustrations are drawn on a sheet eighteen 
feet in length, 

Note 17, page 58. 

Nantaquas. 

The brother of Matoa was named Nantaquaas, but for 
the sake of harmony a letter is left out. His character 



NOTES. 183 

here is not historically represented, as all ancient writers 
agree that he was amiable and useful, notwithstanding 
his savage nature. Captain Smith regarded him as the 
very beau ideal of savage manliness. But as little is 
said of this young Brave, we have drawn on imagina- 
tion for a more vivid picture. The Emperor Powhatan 
had another son, whose name is no where given ; a sus- 
picious and designing boy, endued with that especial 
sort of mischief which is apt to grow into malignity 
in adult age ; under no control from his father, and de- 
spising the reproofs of his lovely and gentle sister. We 
may thence rationally conclude that in after life he 
became the fac simile of what is here represented ; but 
the history closes on his scattered tribes before such 
feelings are fully developed. We have therefore ven- 
tured to give him the name of his elder brother, and 
anticipated his manhood. He is only once mentioned in 
history. 



Note 18, page 60. 

A second Absalom, he longed to grasp 
TJie regal sceptre by his father sivayed. 

Lest utter ignorance of the civil polity of the Indian 
nation be attributed to us, it is necessary here to remark 
that the truncheon of rule did not descend from father to 
son, but collaterally in the male line ; afterwards to the 
females in the same degree, (there being among them no 



184 NOTES. 

salique law,) and lastly by descent. The probability of 
Pocahontas becoming Queen, though very remote, is ad- 
verted to by the historian Stith, when he speaks of the 
strange conduct of James I., King of England, in regard 
to the Lady Rebecca and her husband. 

" There hath been," says Stith, " a constant tradition 
that the King became jealous, and highly offended with 
Mr. Rolfe for marrying a royal Princess. That anointed 
pedant, it seems, had a high idea of the jus divinum 
and indefeasible right of Powhatan, and of royalty in 
any case : so that he held it a great crime for any 
private gentleman to mingle with imperial blood. And 
he might also think that the right of those boundless 
domains across the sea, might hereafter be invested in 
Mr. Rolfe's posterity." 



Note 19, page 64. 
TJie Exile. 

On this subject history is silent, but tradition seems 
fully adequate to supply the elision, as it does in a man- 
ner accordant with the text. 

When Powhatan found that his dearly beloved daughter 
rejected with disdain the Brave whom he had chosen for 
her, he ordered immediate preparation to be made to 
carry her away into banishment. The place selected for 
her residence during her father's wrath, was, according 
to the legend, in the county of Accomac, on the eastern 



NOTES. 185 

shore of Virginia, being his most out of the way and re- 
mote possessions ; inhabited by a tribe and governed by 
a king under the Emperor's sway, but otherwise inde- 
pendent, and spoken of by Smith as " a brave and gene- 
rous people." 

As much of interesting matter is transmitted to us in 
like manner, we need not be so fastidious as to reject it, 
though it comes in a somewhat questionable form. 



Note 20, page 64. 

Amid this rural scene of song 
One sat apart from all the throng : 
Her Queenly brow not passing fair. 
But beauty and repose were there. 

Matoa, alias Pocahontas, is represented by Smith as 
being very beautiful, though her countenance always 
bore an expression of sadness ; a characteristic of her 
father's countenance, which in after years changed to a 
stern ferocity. 

" Powhatan was a man tall and well proportioned, 
with much dignified majesty about him, but of a sour 
aspect." — Stith. 

" Powhatan, or Wahunsonakoc, was tall and well 
proportioned, always bearing an aspect of sadness, and 
exceedingly vigorous even at the age of sixty. His hair 
was somewhat gray, which, together with his high and 
noble bearing, bespoke him of kingly lineage. To this 
majestic appearance his usual dress greatly added: it 

16* 



186 NOTES. 

was a full robe of well prepared skins. On his head he 
wore a circlet of many-coloured feathers, wrought into 
a crown." — Drakes Indian Antiquities. 



Note 21, page 69. 

The night-bird's solemn ditty broke 
The unchanged solitude around ; 

Or Muk-a-wis %uith plaintive note 
Came to her ear with soothing sound. 

Both the owl and the whip-poor-will were considered 
birds of evil omen by the superstitious natives. The 
belief is scarcely yet exploded among the ignorant, that 
a bird of either kind, if he utters his wailings in the 
vicinity of a human habitation, foretells something 
dreadful. Their notes are indeed melancholy enough at 
all times ; but, as I have often heard them, in a lonely 
cottage embosomed in a pine forest, I do not wonder at 
the solemn impression made upon the unlearned. 



Note 22, page 76. 

The Royal Sachem's wigwam fair 

On that proud stream that bore his name, 

Was desert now ; nor Prince nor Peer 
Within its ruined precincts came. 

A description has already been entered into of this 
still beautiful spot. The historian Heckewelder remarks, 



NOTES. 187 

that " this river was called Powhatan from the fruitful- 
ness of its fields and its great supply offish." But Smith 
says, it was so called after the monarch of the country, 
and the people were called Powhatans. He thus de- 
scribes this place of residence, which was afterwards 
exchanged for a more central one. " It stands a little 
below the falls of the Great River, which is only navi- 
gable a mile above, by reason of the rocks and little 
isles where there is no passage for boats." This early 
residence of Pocahontas is said to have been her fa- 
vourite one, as both hope and memory conspire to en- 
dear the birth-place and scenes of childhood's glee. 
How often will even the coldest heart turn from the 
joyless feelings and encumbering cares of after-life, 
to catch a fleeting reminiscence of bygone days, ere 
the fast-fading rays of youthful hope are quenched by 
the chilling frosts of age ! Yet even in a prolonged 
existence, how often will the softened moonbeams of 
memory triumph over sorrow and disappointment. 



Note 23, page 77. 

There rose his standards high to view, 
The signals dark of savage ire. 

Werowocomoco, lay on the north side of York River, 
(called by the natives Pamunky, which is still the name of 
one of its branches) nearly opposite the mouth of Queen's 



188 NOTES. 

Creek. This became, according to Smith, " the resi- 
dence of Powhatan's court, not long after the arrival of 
the English." He settled there after his conquests ex- 
tended. Burk remarks, " that after the new settlers 
became established at Jamestown, he found them too 
near to his dwelling, and removed to Orapaques, a place 
farther inland." 



Note 24, page 78. 

Another dawn beheld it tossed 

By leaves' tempestuous ivoe the while, 

Till, drenched with rain, their rudder lost, 
Wrecked was the skiff on Cedar Isle. 

Smith saw the Indians building their boats, " some 
of which," he says, " would hold forty men, having a 
kind of timber to steer by ; others were quite small." 

There are several small islands in the Chesapeake 
Bay, in either of which the reader is welcome to locate 
the shipwreck of the boat that bore the sad Princess into 
exile, according to the Legend. The fertility of these 
rocky points may be questioned, but they certainly are 
destitute of inhabitants or even a vestige of them ; and 
the hostilities of musquitoes, sand-flies, and the various 
et cetera of ephemeral annoyances, few who know them 
would be willing; to test. 



NOTES. 189 



Note 25, page 79. 

Of 'late , an Argosy of cost, 

By tempest driven or calms delayed, 

With arduous toil had neared the coast, 
Their trans -atlantic friends to aid* 

" Newport suffered much delay on his voyage to the 
relief of the colonists, not only by storms, but many 
calms and adverse winds ; and in his extremity he 
touched on a desert isle." — Smith. 



Note 26, page 86. 

He stops entranced; before him lay, 
Reflecting back the blaze of day, 

Something of dazzling light 
Encased in gold,. 

We must again turn to traditionary lore for the eluci- 
dation of an incident mysterious in itself, and no where 
noticed by historiographers. The legend hath it, that 
Pocahontas, while wandering in the forest between We- 
rowocomoco and Jamestown, whither she often went 
attended by companions both male and female, espied a 
jewel of great value, which was fetched her from among 
the decayed leaves, by a youth who always attended her. 
That upon examination she discovered it to be a remark- 



190 NOTES. 

able thing, but whether of heaven or earth she could not 
tell ; nor did those who were with her know any better 
than she did. This wonderful jewel was the picture of 
a man, and was probably lost by some one of Smith's 
party, who had accompanied him to the Emperor's 
place. The Princess wore it round her neck as a great 
ornament, more to be prized than any thing worldly. 



Note 27, page 91. 

Held by the thews of forest deer, 
Alone this mystic being stands, 

" After many feats of prowess, Captain Smith was at 
length taken captive, and carried in triumph through the 
country by a band of savages commanded by Opekan- 
kanow, the brother of the monarch. He was well 
treated, and so much feasted at all the places he visited, 
that he began to think they were fattening him for a 
victim ; but their object was to gain his consent to aid 
them in ridding their country of the invaders ; and to 
that end they offered him a large territory, and whatever 
else he might choose. When this failed, they endeavoured 
to frighten him into measures." — Burkes History. 

" Early in the morning," says Smith, " they deter- 
mined to try conjurations. They made a great fire; on 
each side they spread a mat, and on one of which they 
caused him to sit. After all the guards had left the 
house, presently came skipping in a great grim fellow 



NOTES. 191 

painted with coal mingled with oil. He had the skins 
of snakes, frogs, weasels and such like, all stuffed with 
moss ; their tails tied together so that they formed a 
tassel at the top of his head, while their ugly mouths 
and faces hung around his face and neck. With a horrid 
voice, and a rattle in his hand, and with strange gestures 
and postures, he began his invocations, spreading a 
circle of meal about the fire. This done, three other 
such demons came in, painted half black and half red ; 
but all round their eyes was painted white, making them 
look hideous. These four fiends danced round the 
prisoner, when three more came in, with red eyes and 
black streaks down their faces. After dancing and 
whooping, they all sat down, three on each side of the 
priest, and opposite to the captive : then holding hands, 
they shook their rattles and began a song. After this 
they laid down grains of corn circled with sticks, within 
the meal, and began their devotions anew. Three days 
they continued at this, eating nothing until night. All 
this was to know if the English intended them any good 
or evil. The circles of meal signified their country ; the 
sticks the borders of the sea, and the corn stood for the 
land of the strangers." 



Note 28, page 91. 

And when, condemned by ruthless Jiate. 

" After these conjurations, Captain Smith was con- 
ducted to Powhatan, the chief residence of the monarch ; 



192 NOTES. 

and after a consultation was held among the chief men, 
he was condemned to die. 

u Two large stones were brought into the circle, and 
laid at the King's feet, and a club placed in his hands. 
The captive being bound hand and foot, was laid upon 
the stones, and Powhatan, to whom the honour was 
respectfully assigned, was about to put him to death. 
Something like pity beamed from the eyes of the savage 
crowd, but none dared to speak. The fatal club was 
uplifted ; — the captive was without a friend to succour 
him, — alone, among hostile savages ! The breasts of the 
multitude already anticipated the dreadful crash that 
would bereave him of life, when the young and beautiful 
Pocahontas, the king's darling daughter, with a shriek 
of terror and agony, threw herself on the body of the 
victim ! Her dark hair was unbound, her eyes stream- 
ing with tears, and her whole manner bespoke the agony 
of her bosom. She cast the most beseeching looks at 
her angry and astonished father, imploring his pity and 
the life of the captive with all the eloquence of mute but 
impassioned sorrow." — Smith. 

"The remainder of this scene," says Burk, " is highly 
honourable to Powhatan, and remains a lasting monu- 
ment that, though different principles of action and the 
influence of custom had given to the manners of this 
people an appearance neither amiable nor virtuous in 
general, yet they still retained the noblest property of 
the human character, — the touch of sympathy and the 
feelings of humanity. The club of the Emperor was 
still uplifted ; but gentle feelings had overcome him, and 
his eye was every moment losing its fierceness. He 



NOTES. 193 

looked round to find an excuse for his weakness, and 
saw pity in every face. The generous savage no longer 
hesitated. The compassion of the rude state is neither 
ostentatious nor dilatory, nor does it insult its object 
by the exaction of impossibilities. Powhatan lifted his 
grateful and delighted daughter from the earth, but lately 
ready to receive the blood of the victim, and commanded 
the stranger captive to arise." 

The venerable historian Stith adds : " Whereupon 
Powhatan was persuaded to let him live that he might 
make hatchets for himself, and belts, beads and copper 
trinkets for his young preserver." 

There are many other incidents recorded, wherein 
this lovely and merciful Princess saved the lives of Cap- 
tain Smith and his followers, at the imminent hazard 
of her own life, from her father's anger, and the perils 
she encountered in her frequent and lonely excursions 
to Jamestown from Werowocomoco, whither she often 
went, in company or alone, as best served her benevo- 
lent purposes ; sometimes to carry secret intelligence of 
hostile movements, but mostly to supply the wants and 
minister to the sufferings of the sickly and almost 
starving colonists. For further particulars on these 
subjects, see Smith, Stith, Burk, etc. 



17 



194 NOTES. 

Note 29, page 94. 

Matoa now no more. 

Matoaka being both harsh and unpoetic, we have 
ventured to euphonize it by the omission of the last 
syllable. Smith remarks that " Men, women, and chil- 
dren have their several names according to the several 
humours of their parents, which may be changed at 
will." That this Princess was called Matoaka, there 
can be no doubt, as in an ancient representation which 
I have seen, the following words encircle the picture, 
which is dressed in the full costume of the times of 
James L, bearing date 1616 : 

MATOAKA. al's REBECCA. 

FILTA POTENTISS. PRINC. POWHATAN. IMP. 

VIRGINIA. 

1616. Now aged 21. 

4 

Underneath is this inscription : " Matoaka, alias Re- 
becca, daughter of the mighty Prince Powhatan, Em- 
peror of Attanongehomouck, alias Virginia, converted 
and baptized in the Christian faith, and became wife to 
the worshipful Mr. John RolfFe." 

In regard to the baptism of this Princess, there is little 
doubt of its having taken place before she left Virginia, 
if not before her marriage. If so, the rude church at 
Jamestown must have been the scene of that solemn and 
imposing ceremony. There is, however, but little data 
remaining by which the different acts and epochs of that 



NOTES. 195 

noble Princess' life can be reconciled. Upon research, 
we find some dates probable enough : to wit, " Poca- 
hontas was born about the year 1594 or '5 ; hence she 
was only twelve or thirteen years old when she saved 
the life of Smith in 1607."— Burk. "The name sig- 
nifies a streamlet between two hills," says Hecke welder : 
prophetic, it seemed to be, as she was a bond of peace 
and union between two mighty nations. 

Another note of a fugitive, and somewhat desultory 
character, claims admittance : we will therefore place it 
here a:s a suitable location. 

"From 1609 to 1611, about two years, Pocahontas 
was never seen at Jamestown." — Keith* 

" About this time, or perhaps earlier, the Princess was 
not seen for some time. Rumour said she was banished 
to her father's remote possessions." — Stith. 



Note 30, page 96. 

With joyless steps she left her father's courts, 
(For darkened ivas his broio to lid's child.) 

" Captain Argall, having proceeded up the Potowmac 
on a trading expedition, by the means of Japazaw, King 
of that country, discovered that Pocahontas was then on 
a visit in that neighbourhood, in a distressed state, and 
unwilling to be known. He immediately conceived the 
project of getting her into his power, concluding that the 
possession of so valuable a hostage would operate as a 



196 NOTES. 

check on the hostile dispositions of her father, the Em- 
peror, and might be made a means of reconciliation. 
The cause of her absence from the protection of her 
family is left to bare conjecture. 

" Her avowed partiality for the English had most 
probably drawn upon her the displeasure of her father ; 
and this high-spirited monarch had suffered so much 
from the invaders of his territory, both in fact and by 
anticipation, that she might (dear as she had ever been) 
have feared his resentment, to avoid the immediate effects 
of which she retired to that sequestered place."— Burk. 

" To avoid being a witness to the butcheries of the 
English, whose rash folly, after Smith's departure, put 
it out of her power to save them, this disconsolate Prin- 
cess withdrew from those scenes, and threw herself on 
the friendship of Japazaw, King of Potowmac, whose 
country as yet lay at rest "-^-Stith. 



Note 31, page 96. 
For tJiere each magic Werowance resorts. 

" Powhatan was often in conference with the Priests, 
and would convene the chieftains of the tribes in consul- 
tations upon the distracted state of the country. Being 
beloved and respected, the Werowances all came at the 
call of the Emperor. 

" This word, < Werowance,' signifies ' great man,' 
whether in wisdom or power. Their Priests and Con- 



NOTES. 197 

jurors, or Physicians (as they were called), had much to 
do, not only in the art of healing, but in the affairs of 
state, when any exigency occurred. But the term is 
used more to imply a Chief or Sagamore than any thing 
else." 



Note 32, page 99. 

There dwelt an aged crone of otheryears, 
The child of mystery. 

This Sibyl of Potomac is entirely an imaginary being, 
though founded on the known superstition of the Indians, 
and fostered by stories and legends extant of strange 
and wonderful individuals among them. Such a ro- 
mance very naturally presents itself to the mind, 
especially when a favourite hypothesis is to be estab- 
lished, and the interest of the piece demands it ; — and, 
having precedent sufficient to encourage us in all such 
matters, under this prerogative we are willing to rest. 

As all Sibyls are endowed with more than common 
powers, she is represented as not only seeing into 
futurity, but likewise gifted with retrospections of the 
past. Nor does her prophetic spirit exceed many other 
similar characters introduced elsewhere, whose mental 
hallucinations often conjured up from the "vasty deep" 
of a distempered mind, images of no common kind. 

17* 



198 NOTES. 



Note 33, page 102. 

For round me move in dark array 
The Patriarchs of a former day* 

The theory above alluded to has been indulged by the 
author, and warranted by some able writers who have 
devoted much time to the study of antiquities. See 
" Star in the West," by E. Boudinot, late of New 
Jersey, a man of much erudition and great research, 
whose energetic mind and biblical knowledge have en- 
abled him to explore with great success this almost 
untried field of literature. He adduces many things to 
prove that the aborigines of North America were de- 
scended from the lost Ten Tribes of Israel, who, being a 
second time carried away into captivity by the Baby- 
lon i-sh Kings, never returned en masse to their own 
country ; but, to use a scripture phrase, " melted away 
from the face of men." 

The ingenious author of the work alluded to exhibits 
strong evidences of the fact, backed by prophecy, that 
these scattered tribes, a part of whom only returned with 
" Judah's numbers," emigrated northward. That they 
disappeared, leaving no traces of their progress behind 
them, is vouched for both in sacred and profane history. 
The belief is, that their wanderings were ordained, and 
that the forty years' sojourn of their fathers in the wilds 
of Arabia was a type of their fate; and that after a lapse 
of time foretold by prophetic inspiration, they should 
pass over an arm of the sea, or some mighty water, 



NOTES. 199 

which, according to the words of wisdom, should " stand 
still at the command of the Lord," and another land 
should be prepared for them* 



Note 34, page 102. 
A shadowy sceptre first appears. 

" The sceptre shall not depart from Judah, nor a law- 
giver from between his feet, until Shiloh come, and to 
him shall the gathering of the nations be." Gen. xlix. 10. 
In this highly interesting and graphic chapter, we find 
the prophecies relating to the several sons of Jacob, 
already denominated the Twelve Tribes of Israel, given 
in the language of inspiration, and abounding in all the 
beautiful imagery of the East. 

We likewise read of the " Lion of the Tribe of 
Judah ;" " the Shepherd of Israel," of whom this fa- 
voured Tribe was the root, etc. In the emphatic lan- 
guage of Holy Writ, these synonymes are appropriated 
to Judah, who was for ages the most influential of all 
the Tribes. On account of his bravery, he is called the 
" lion," " the old lion," etc. This distinction he seems 
to have gained when fighting against the Canaanites. 
Inquiry being made of the Lord by Urim and Thum- 
mim, or light and perfection, who should lead the hosts 
to battle, the response of the holy oracle (made known 
no doubt in the usual mystical manner) demanded that 
"Judah should go up." This was after the death of 
Joshua, who had been a long time the commander of the 
united forces of the Twelve Tribes. 



200 NOTES. 

After the second captivity, Judah alone returned as a 
nation, while the Israelites were either finally scattered, 
or incorporated with them ; and from that time all the 
descendants of Jacob were called Jews, or Judeans. 



Note 35, page 103. 

Lo! these depart! An Ensign stands 
Upheld in midst by bloody hands ! 

" Simeon and Levi are brethren." " Cursed be their 
anger, for it was fierce, and their wrath, for it was 
cruel. I will divide them in Jacob, and scatter them 
in Israel." Gen. xlix. 

" Those instruments of cruelty," the swords with 
which they massacred the defenceless Shechemites, 
remained in their houses, as a perpetual memorial of 
their odious and horrible crime. According to prophecy, 
they were scattered among the other tribes. In conse- 
quence of the good conduct of Levi, they grew in favour 
with the Most High, and were appointed Priests ; while 
the unrepenting Simeon bore the burden alone. 

The only possession of Simeon was a portion in the 
lot of Judah ; but being straitened for room as their 
numbers increased, they went in quest of new places. 
Tradition reports that the Simeonites were dispersed 
among the children of Israel as instructors for their 
children ; from time immemorial having no other sup- 
port. Thus were the unerring oracles fulfilled, and they 
were literally " divided in Israel." 



NOTES. 201 



Note 36, page 103. 

And now a stranger scene appears ; 
A warrior rudely clad for war. 

Dan seems to have succeeded more by stratagem than 
in open war. The Danites were subtle and mischievous ; 
also a marauding people (excellent riders), therefore 
likened to serpents. 



Note 37, page 104. 

But legends yet may tell 
Of fruitful boughs and branches fair , 
All clustering in the summer air 

Around an Eastern well. 

" Joseph is a fruitful bough." Gen. xlix. 22. Joseph, 
the favoured and beloved son of the Patriarch, is spoken 
of as "a young tree planted by the water side, that 
bringeth forth much fruit." 

Note 38, page 104. 

A dark-red Hind of noble race. 

" Naphtali is a hind let loose." This Tribe is repre- 
sented by the sacred writers as active, but volatile; 
brave, but not discreet ; more noted for despatch than 
for steady persevering labour. 



202 NOTES. 

" Our banner was displayed in the sight of all the 
people. It bore the proud cognizance of our Tribe — the 
beautiful red stag upon a white ground ; its heart pierced 
with an arrow : and as it fluttered to the breeze, with 
loud notes of triumph we hailed the immortal standard 
of Naphtali." — SalathieL 



Note 39, page 106. 

Upturned for aye your altar-stone. 

" The Indians have certain altar-stones, called Paw- 
corances. They do not stand in their temples, but by 
their houses ; and some in the woods where any thing 
extraordinary has happened, and are used as records of 
events, pointing them out to their children from age to 
age, and thus impressing their instructions. Upon these 
they offer the blood of deer, and the suet of clean ani- 
mals. They also burn tobacco on them when they 
return in safety from war or hunting." — Smith. 

Note 40, page 107. 

But thou, the beautiful, the meek, 
Ere twenty summers fan thy cheek. 

Pocahontas was, according to authorities, under twenty 
years of age when she sailed for England. Here she 
remained about two years ; being under twenty-two at 
her death. 



NOTES. 203 



Note 41, page 107. 

There, where the breakers ceaseless roar. 
And ivhite sails glitter in the sun. 

" She died at Gravesend on the English seaboard, 
(whither she went to embark for her native land,) No- 
vember, 1616 ; and there she was buried." — Smith. 

" A simple tomb, washed by the rising surge, is all 
that remains of this exalted being," says a traveller some 
vears after her death. 



Note 42, page 108. 

From thy soft couch's crimson fold, 
As nestling like an unfledged bird. 

History makes no mention of the place of the young 
Rolfe's birth, but says, that " at the death of Pocahontas, 
Sir Lewis Steukley of Plymouth took the child ; but that 
he soon fell into disrepute, in consequence of his treach- 
erously betraying Sir Walter Raleigh to execution. The 
boy, Thomas Rolfe, was sent to his uncle, Henry Rolfe, 
who educated him. He afterwards returned to Virginia, 
where he became a man of great eminence ; and, mar- 
rying, left an only daughter, from whom are descended 
many of the first families in the state. So that this rem- 
nant of the imperial family in Virginia, which long ran 
in a single person, is now increased and branched out 
into a numerous progeny." — Stith. 



204 NOTES. 



Note 43, page 108. 

In any era, time or age, 
In this his ancient heritage. 

We find no mention of any others, descended from 
Indians, now dwelling in the land of their forefathers, 
although many marriages were contracted between the 
natives and Europeans. Belknap, Smith and Stith, give 
each an account of one Mr. Hamor, who at the instiga- 
tion of others, sanctioned by Sir Thomas Dale, the 
Governor, offered himself in alliance to Powhatan, as 
the suitor of his younger daughter. The Emperor told 
him he had just sold her to a chief for three bushels of 
ratvanoke (tobacco); but if Sir Thomas Dale, his friend 
and brother, desired to marry the Princess, he would take 
her back and restore the purchase article, as she was 
not yet delivered to her future lord. Stith is of the 
opinion that Sir Thomas was very willing to make the 
arrangement. But war broke out, and he returned again 
to England. 



Note 44, page 110. 

And o'er her withered form to place 
Each treasured trophy of her race. 

"The bodies of all their kings and priests are em- 
balmed in a rude manner by the Indians, and afterwards 



NOTES. 205 

dried on hurdles. They then form a tomb arched with 
mats, and lay the body in order therein. But first they 
hang bracelets and chains of copper or any bright metal, 
coral, pearls and such like, upon their necks and joints. 
They then lap them up with much care in white skins, 
and so roll them in clean mats for winding-sheets. What 
remains of their wealth, they set at their feet in baskets ; 
and oftentimes upon their breasts they lay such things 
as most they valued ; such as white beads and copper, 
together with a red paint, called pocones, for fear the 
Evil Spirit, whom they call Okee, be offended." — Smith. 



Note 45, page 110. 
A viaVs liquid treasure there. 

In a lower section of Virginia, some ancient tombs 
have been opened within the last fifty years ; in one of 
these receptacles of the dead, a skeleton of large dimen- 
sions was discovered, bearing on its breast several pieces 
of copper and glass, some beads, and a vial stopped with 
wood, (this vial was not very remarkable in its forma- 
tion,) capable of containing about two ounces, and seemed 
to have been filled with a yellow liquid, nearly all of 
which had evaporated notwithstanding its being almost 
hermetically sealed by the introduction of some very 
tenacious substance about the stopper. 

This vial, and a piece of glass of singular construc- 
tion, were for some years exhibited in the Virginia 

18 



206 NOTES. 

Museum at Richmond. This institution having been 
devoted to other purposes, these venerable relics of an- 
tiquity were presented to the writer by the former pro- 
prietor, and are still in her possession. 



Note 46, page 110. 

No mass, no holy prayer was said 
CPer the mute presence of the dead. 

" There is," says Captain Smith, in his notice of the 
manners and customs of the natives, " no place yet dis- 
covered to be so savage, in which they have no religion." 

"In the territory of every chief, there is a temple 
where seven priests preside. The dress of six of them 
is comparatively plain." For the singular costume of 
the chief among them, see a preceding note, containing 
an account of the conjurations held over Captain Smith, 
who says, " Powhatan had a large temple, sixty yards 
long, in which he kept seven priests, who took care of 
his skins, beads, etc. laid up for his burial ; it being com- 
mon to prepare these things during life, and happy was 
he who collected the greatest number." He further ob- 
serves, " that the burial of a great person is conducted 
with great solemnity. This ended, they return from the 
tomb ; the men about their pastimes, while the women, 
painted and oiled to look black and hideous, retire to 
their wigwams, and do make such howls and lamenta- 
tions as may show their grief. This they do for twenty- 
four hours." 



NOTES. 207 



Note 47, page 112. 
Arriving from a foreign shore. 

" Captain Argall was sent to the colony with forty- 
men and a supply of provisions. He touched at James- 
town to unload ; and having heard of Potowmac, he went 
thither to trade for corn. He soon formed an acquaint- 
ance with Japazaw, the King of that country, where he 
heard, much to his delight, that the Princess Pocahontas 
was then on a visit to him ; she whom we call the Non- 
parielle of Virginia." 

"Thinking herself unknown, and not dreaming of 
treachery on the part of her friends, Japazaw and his 
wife persuaded her to accompany them on board the 
ship, feigning great curiosity. As for the savage, he 
would have done any thing for the copper kettle promised 
him by Captain Argall. For though the Princess had 
seen many ships, and had no desire to go aboard, yet 
he caused his wife to make a great complaining, while 
he pretended to beat her for her importunity until she 
wept. At last he told her that if Pocahontas would go 
with her, he was content ; thus betraying the poor inno- 
cent creature. When they came up, the Captain per- 
suaded the Princess into the gun-room, on pretence of 
having a private conference with Japazaw, only to pre- 
vent her seeing his treachery. He then told her she 
must leave her friends, and go with him to compound a 
peace with her father. Whereupon the deceitful old Jew 



208 NOTES. 

and his wife began to cry and howl faster than did the 
injured maiden, who with his fair promises presently 
became reconciled; while old Japazaw and his hypocrite 
wife, with their copper kettle and other toys, went mer- 
rily on shore, while the ship hove sail for Jamestown. 55 



Note 48, page 119. 

Not long in idle gaze she stood 
Before lier eye some object caught. 

The same interesting legend that tells of the discovered 
picture, also relates that " at first sight of Mr. Rolfe, 
Pocahontas was greatly moved and astonished. 5 ' (See 
Old Record of Wonderful Traditions, published some 
years since in the Richmond Gazette.) 



Note 49, page 130. 

The sequel stands on history's page, 
A record true from age to age. 

" An incident occurred about this time, 55 says Burk, 
" which contributed to soften the obdurate spirit of the 
savage Monarch. From the time of Pocahontas 5 cap- 
tivity, she remained at Jamestown, treated with all re- 



NOTES. 209 

spect and dignity. A tender regard here commenced in 
the susceptible bosom of the Princess for Mr. John Rolfe, 
a gentleman of great respectability, which every day 
gained ground, from the delicate attentions of that gen- 
tleman. Their passion at length found words, and was 
disclosed by him to his friend, Sir Thomas Dale, with 
all the modesty of true love, while a similar confession 
was made by Pocahontas to a devoted friend and com- 
panion of many years." 



Note 50, page 130. 

And how from heathen darkness turned. 
Her heart with Christia?i fervour burned* 

" I have read," says Captain Smith, " a letter from 
Sir Thomas Dale, another from Master Whitaker, the 
resident minister, and some more from counsellors of 
state, saying how careful they were to instruct Poca- 
hontas in the Christian doctrines, and how capable and 
desirous she was thereof. After she had been thus 
tutored, she never had a desire to live with her father 
or his people, who would by no means turn from their 
idolatry, that thereby they might confess the true faith 
which she embraced with all her heart ; from that time 
renouncing her former blindness and unbelief. Her 
poor, dear father, she said, although at times he was 
not angry with her, yet would by no means give up an 

18* 



210 NOTES. 

idolatrous religion to which he had been so long used. 
After these determinations and professions she was bap- 
tized." 



Note 51, page 134. 

Wild ivas the scene, and huslied to calm repose; 
From the dense crated ?w thoughtless murmurs rose. 

We have no record of this event other than from 
some vague traditionary sketches, handed down from 
time immemorial, which intimate that the old Episcopal 
Church at Jamestown was the scene of this solemn and 
imposing ceremony. 



Note 52, page 134. 

The bright girl knelt, bathed in repentant tears — 
Connecting link between two hemispJieres. 

This can be truly said, as, according to the best 
authorities, Powhatan, after he had become reconciled 
to his daughter's union, looked upon that union as a 
compact between the two nations ; " and, although from 
the execrable management of the colony's affairs, and 
their cruel persecutions of the Indians, much bloodshed 
succeeded, yet the end was peace." — Stith. 



NOTES. 211 



Note 53, page 135. 

Still as the sculptured monuments of eld ; 
Aivless, nor tvondering at the mystic sign. 

It is a well known fact that savages never express sur- 
prise at any thing, not even at the most beautiful objects 
or remarkable occurrences. There are many features 
of these tribes especially interesting, some of which 
have obtained in all nomadic tribes, and are recorded in 
the Bible as belonging to a separate and distinct people. 
In regard to the seeming cruelty and treachery of the 
disturbed and harassed inhabitants, the most charitable 
among us could scarcely find it in our hearts to condemn 
them. They opposed force to force, great as the odds 
were against them, when they found that kindness was 
answered by persecution ; and the law of retaliation de- 
manding something more, they resorted to stratagem to 
effect what power and numbers could not compass. 
Burk, in speaking of the subtlety of the Indian Monarch, 
remarks, that " such conduct should not be attributed to 
Powhatan as a vice, seeing he acted on the maxims of 
his country, which gave to stratagem and finesse the 
same rewards that nations more civilized bestow on 
force." 

As to the marriage of the Princess, we have no par- 
ticulars transmitted by historians. 

"This year," says Burk, "1616, Sir Thomas Dale 
returned on a visit to England, taking with him the 
Princess Pocahontas and her husband, Mr. Rolfe." 



212 NOTES. 



Note 54, page 146. 

Ere to that land of shadows he depart. 
Where roams the elk unmindful of the dart. 

Captain Smith remarks, in allusion to the savage be- 
lief of a hereafter, that " after death, their kings and 
priests go beyond the mountains towards the setting sun, 
where they forever remain, and are supplied with abun- 
dance of game, which they need not trouble themselves 
to fetch. They likewise have beads, hatchets, and such 
like, at will ; a supply of pearls, copper and tobacco al- 
ways at hand, and nothing to do but dance and sing with 
all the great Werowances of former times." 



Note 55, page 155. 

Enough to point to the historic page 
Where the bold impress stands for every age. 

Burk remarks : " While these things (before spoken of 
in relation to the colony) were transacting in Virginia, 
Pocahontas, now called the Lady Rebecca, had become 
a subject of interest and curiosity to all descriptions of 
people in London. Captain Smith, being about to em- 
bark a second time for northern Virginia, or New Eng- 
land, felt himself bound, when he heard of the arrival of 
the Princess, to attempt something in favour of one who 



NOTES. 213 

had protected and befriended him in so many perils, as 
being bound both in honour and gratitude to do so. After 
some deliberation, he concluded it best to present a peti- 
tion to the Queen Anne, setting at large the merits of the 
Virginian Princess, and her claims to the patronage of 
her Majesty and the whole English people. This peti- 
tion, which bears his signature, is said to have made a 
very favourable impression on the minds of the Queen 
and the people, which daily gained ground by the modest 
demeanour and interesting manner of the young Prin- 
cess- 

" She had already made considerable proficiency in 
the English language ; while the original capacity and 
vigour of her mind, improved by observation, and tem- 
pered by softness and sincerity, made her conversation 
and society courted by all the principal nobility." 

" She was carried to court by the Lady De La War 
and her husband, together with many other persons of 
fashion and distinction, who much affected the beautiful 
and amiable Princess of Powhatan, and desired to present 
her to the Majesty of England, and the royal court." — 
Stith. 

An extract of some length from the best histories of 
the times, together with Captain Smith's letter to the 
Queen, may not be considered tedious or irrelevant to 
act as a concluding scene to this poem and its accom- 
panying notes ; as many who might honour our novel 
effort with a hasty perusal, might not have time or op- 
portunity to extend their reading to some hundred pages 
of what is sometimes considered a quaint and uninterest- 
ing account of by-gone days. These remarks and a 



214 NOTES. 

transcript of the letter shall be as much curtailed and 
rendered as concise as the subject will warrant. 

" In the language of the Church," says Burk, " the 
Princess of Powhatan has become a Christian; ex- 
changing, by the mysterious ceremonies of baptism, her 
Indian name of Pocahontas, for the more gospel and 
modest one of Rebecca ; while the native elegance of 
her mind was delighted at the fortunate transition from 
savage liberty to the delicate and refined restraints of 
social life. 

" Captain Smith visited her at Brentford, whither her- 
self and family had retired to avoid the noise and smoke 
of London. Having been informed of his death, she 
was greatly surprised and overcome at the sight of him. 
With a mixture of gentleness and firmness, she re- 
minded him of their former acquaintance, and claimed 
him as her father ; saying that by that endearing name 
he had called Powhatan, when a stranger in their 
country ; and now that she, his daughter, being among 
a strange people, should take the same liberty. She 
also reminded him of a little white dog that he had pre- 
sented to her father, the Emperor of Virginia, which 
little dog he himself had fed and nursed ; and with inno- 
cent simplicity she asked him if she was not better than 
his dog ? She felt herself slighted by one on whom she 
had conferred many kindnesses, and this was the mild 
rebuke she gave him. She spoke to him of an ambas- 
sador whom her father had sent to England, according 
to some authorities, to see if they had any corn or trees 
in their country, as the English in Virginia had shown 
great eagerness to procure those articles in large quanti- 



JNOTES. 215 

ties, creating a doubt in the minds of the simple-hearted 
natives, whether or not their own country was entirely 
barren." 

Smith says that " this man, Tomocomo, was sent to 
count the people of England ; and that the King, not 
Opekankanow, had desired him to attend his daughter. 
Being both a counsellor and a priest, he was desirous 
that Pocahontas should have him in her retinue. On 
landing in the west of England, Tomocomo, who is 
represented as a man of wisdom and understanding, 
procured a long stick, with the design of making a notch 
for every man he saw, but soon abandoned such a fruit- 
less and endless task ; satisfying himself to remark the 
state of the country on his way to London, and report 
as to its fertility." 

" On his return to Virginia," says Burk, " being 
asked by the King what report he could make of the 
people and the productions of the land he had visited, 
he replied : ' As to their trees, corn and such like, they 
had more than they could ever want ; but for the people, 
go count the stars in the sky, the leaves on the trees, 
and the sands on the sea-shore, for they are less nu- 
merous.' " 

In regard to the character of this interesting woman, 
as it stands in the current accounts of all historians, it 
is not surpassed in the whole range of history ; and 
more especially for those qualities which do honour 
to human nature. In humane feeling, in unshaken 
constancy, and in the bright virtues that most adorn 
her sex, she stands almost without a rival. For in 
Pocahontas we have to admire not the softer virtues 



216 NOTES. 

only ; for when the interest of her friends is concerned, 
we find her endowed with the highest courage, the most 
amazing foresight, adorned with a magnanimity the 
most beautiful. Indeed there is ground for apprehen- 
sion that posterity, in reading this portion of American 
History, will be inclined to consider the account of 
Pocahontas as a romance, almost equal to the fictions of 
many early travellers and navigators. 

It is now the sad office of history to record the fate of 
this admirable woman, who died at Gravesend, when 
preparing to embark with her husband and son, on 
her return to the land of her fathers. In her death 
she displayed a happy mixture of Indian fortitude and 
Christian resignation. Her little son, Thomas Rolfe, 
was left at Plymouth under the charge of Admiral Sir 
Lewis Steukley, who then resided there. It was his 
desire to educate the child ; but falling into disrepute in 
consequence of his treacherous conduct in regard to 
Sir Walter Raleigh's arrest and condemnation, he was 
forced to abandon both his charge and his country; and 
the young Rolfe was sent to his uncle, Henry Rolfe of 
London, where he continued to receive every care and 
tenderness until he was of age, when he returned to his 
father-land. 

Pocahontas was twenty-two years of age at her death ; 
having been little more than two years in England. Her 
death occurred in 1616. Whether her husband returned 
to Virginia or not, the record of the times does not 
plainly show. Honourable mention is made of one John 
Rolfe, a member of the Council, some years after ; and 
letters on the state of the colony, bearing his name, are 



NOTES. 217 

extant. The aged Emperor was greatly affected at the 
intelligence of his daughter's death. He had then retired 
from the arduous duties of government, resigning the 
kingdom to Itopitan, his eldest brother. His second, 
Opekankanow, being like him, a great warrior, had 
command of the military, and did much in those bloody 
wars in which the colony bled at every pore. Powhatan 
died in 1618, nearly two years after his daughter, and 
was a man of great bravery, wisdom and good feeling. 
(See Smith, Stith, Burk, Drake, etc.) 

Some quotations from Captain Smith's letter to Queen 
Anne are selected as the finale to this little volume. 

In a letter from a Mr. John Rolfe, written June 15, 
1618, he remarks: "Concerning our new common- 
wealth, it is in a better and more plentiful state, but no 
great abundance, as is vainly reported in England. 
Powhatan died last April, yet we continue in peace. 
Itopitan, his brother, succeeds him, and both he and 
Opekankanow have confirmed our former league. We 
had a wonderful and most fearful tempest on the 11th of 
May, pouring down hail stones for half an hour, eight 
or nine inches about, so that none durst go out of 
doors." 



TRANSCRIPT OF A LETTER TO THE MOST HIGH AND VIRTUOUS 
PRINCESS QUEEN ANNE OF GREAT BRITAIN. 

" The love I bear my King and country, emboldens 
me to present your Majesty a petition in this short dis- 
course. If ingratitude be a deadly poison to all honest 

19 



218 NOTES. 

virtues, I must be guilty of that crime if I could omit any 
means to be thankful. So it is, that some ten years ago, 
being in Virginia and taken prisoner by the power of 
this savage, Powhatan, Emperor of that country, that 
King's most dearly beloved daughter, Pocahontas, being 
not more than twelve or thirteen years of age, whose 
tender and pitiful compassion taught all to respect her, — 
I being the first Christian this proud King and his grim 
attendants had ever seen, — and although enthralled in 
their power, yet I felt no want that those mortal foes 
could prevent, notwithstanding their threats. After some 
six weeks of fatting among them, she hazarded the beat- 
ing out of her own brains to save mine ; and likewise so 
prevailed with her father that I was safely conducted to 
Jamestown, where I found eight and thirty miserable 
poor sick creatures to keep possession of the large terri- 
tories of Virginia. Such was the weakness of the poor 
commonwealth, as had the savages not fed us, we direct- 
ly had starved. This relief was brought us by this lady, 
Pocahontas. And when inconstant fortune turned our 
peace to war, this tender virgin would often visit us, 
supply our wants and appease our quarrels. And when 
her people strove to surprise me with but eighteen men, the 
darkness of the night could not affright her from coming 
through the irksome woods, and with watery eyes, to 
give me intelligence of her father's anger, and how best 
to escape his fury; which had he known, he had certainly 
slain her. Jamestown, with her wild train of damsels, 
she used often to frequent, and for a great time she was, 
under God, the next to save the whole colony from death 
and destruction, famine and utter confusion ; which if in 



NOTES. 219 

those times had been once dissolved, Virginia would lie 
as it did at our first arrival, to this day. 

" During a long and troublesome war betwixt her 
father and the colony after my departure, for two years 
she w T as absent from her home. After which she was 
taken prisoner ; by her means peace was again con- 
cluded, after that she had married a good gentleman of 
England, and left her barbarous state ; whereby she is 
now in England with her husband: the first Christian of 
that nation, the first Virginian who ever spoke English ; 
and hath a little son, the first born of such a marriage. 

" Thus> most gracious Lady, I have laboured to give 
your Majesty a knowledge of these things, that might be 
presented by a more perfect and worthy pen, but not by 
a more honest heart. As yet I never begged any thing 
of the state, nor of any other ; and for want of ability to 
assist her myself, I make bold to beseech your Majesty, 
as her husband's estate is not able to make her fit to ap- 
pear before your Majesty ; she being of a great, noble, 
and royal spirit, and seeing this kingdom may gain an- 
other through her means. Being about to sail for New 
England, I could not do her that service I desired, and 
she well deserves ; but hearing that she was at Brent- 
ford, with divers of her friends, I went to see her ; when, 
after a modest salutation, afterwards she began to talk, 
and reminded me of her country and of her father, say- 
ing, < You promised Powhatan what was yours should be 
his, and he the like to you. You called him Father, 
being in his land ; and by the same reason so must I call 
you ;' which I would have excused, but she being the 
daughter of a great King, I durst not allow, and told her 



220 NOTES. 

the reason ; upon which she said, as I was not afraid to 
come into her father's country, and call him Father, she 
would call me so, and I should call her Child. She said 
they had told her I was dead, and she knew no better 
till she came to Plymouth ; and her father did command 
his ambassador to seek for me and find me out, telling 
me of her that I might protect her in a strange land. 
For her father did not believe the account of my death, 
because our people were much given to falsehood. 

" This was that same Tomocomo who came with the 
Princess, and wished to count the people, but could not ; 
and who told me very sadly : ' You gave my King, 
Powhatan, a white dog, that he fed as himself; but your 
king hath given me nothing : yet I am better than your 
white dog.' 

u The small time I stayed in London, divers courtiers 
and others of my acquaintance desired to go with me to 
see the Lady Rebecca, and thought they had seen many 
English ladies much worse featured, favoured and pro- 
portioned, as also worse behaved by far than this young 
Princess. And I have since heard that it pleased both 
the King and Queen to esteem her as a lady of high and 
royal birth, and that, accompanied by Lord and Lady 
De La War and many others of fashion and place, she 
did publicly appear at the masques and elsewhere, to 
her great satisfaction and content, which doubtless she 
would have still deserved, had she lived to return to 
Virginia, to carry refinement among her own people." — 
Smith's History of Virginia, book ii. page 33. 

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